Coming Back To You
by post-war
Summary: Emily and Naomi break up after Emily finds out Naomi cheated on her with Sophia. Four years later, having had their whole university career to shape and mature them, they meet again.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, first fanfic ever, and my chosen subject is Naomily :) because they're great aren't they?**

**I really really reeeeaally wanted to write a fanfic that fixed them after what happened in Emily's episode this season, but I just couldn't. I couldn't see how it would work, so I think I'll leave that to the wonderful Skin's writing team (fingers crossed!!!)**

**So my little story is set a few years into the future. Not many, but just enough to make them both a little older and wiser. But not much, because that would be no fun :) Also, it means that I don't have to clean up any of the wreckage from season 4 events. Everyone likes a fresh start, right?**

**Any feedback you guys can give me would be greatly appreciated, good or bad, I can take it lol.**

* * *

Great. Just great. The proudest moment of her life, allegedly, and she looked like an absolute twat. She'd always looked ridiculous in hats, let alone hats that were made for Oxford professors several centuries ago. She tried looking haughty, looking angry, looking nonchalant, looking seductive, as if one of them would give the impression of intellect. She noticed herself failing.

Naomi regarded her scathing reflection, wondering how many times she could possibly be made to feel stupid before she could gratefully curl up and die quietly somewhere, when her mother burst unceremoniously through the door.

'Mum!' shouted Naomi, her hands automatically rushing to her chest to cover her, thankfully bra-clad, modesty.

'Oo sorry love,' said her mother, not really sounding sorry at all, 'Lovely hat,' she noted briefly, leaving Naomi silently grateful that she mentioned nothing of her trying it on in nothing but her underwear.

'What is it you want?' Naomi asked, irritably yanking the hat from her head and scrabbling for her dressing gown.

'I just wanted to tell you to hurry up,' Gina said innocently, 'And to see what my beautiful girl looked like in her clever-person clothes,' she beamed. 'Unfortunately I've just caught you in your underwear ... again.'

Naomi rolled her eyes as she tied the belt of the gown into a bow. 'If you learnt to knock once in a while we wouldn't have this problem would we mother?' she asked, rhetorically.

'Oh I've seen all your wibbly bits before love,' Gina said, wafting her hand as if it was nothing to her. 'You got all your best ones from me,' she grinned.

'Mother!' Naomi exclaimed, exasperated. Living away from home seemed a distant memory, although it had only been two days ago that her mother had pitched up at her shared student house in order to watch her get presented with some document telling her she'd passed her degree, which she already knew, but this time had to be told in a public forum wearing a ridiculous hat.

'Anyway, hurry up we've only got half an hour before it all kicks off,' Gina said excitably.

'Mum, it's not a football match,' Naomi told her, 'And it's not like we'll miss anything exciting. It's just a bunch of people's names, who you don't know, being called out, then them walking up some steps onto a stage, shaking some crusty old professor's hand and walking away. In fact, the only interesting thing will be if someone messes up. And honestly: walking and hand shaking? Not that easy to get wrong,' Naomi reasoned.

Gina sighed, 'All the same dear, I don't fancy squeezing my derriere past a load of proud parents who've already made their way to their seats.'

Naomi rolled her eyes. That's what it always came down to. Her mother's backside.

'You're right Mum, no one wants that shoved in their face,' she told her.

'Well quite, just you get your clothes on,' Gina told her before breezing out of the room.

Naomi sighed heavily, before turning back to face her reflection in the full length mirror. It looked thoroughly pissed off. She reached for her graduation cap and slammed it over her face.

****

'Sorry ... sorry ...s'cuse ... sorry ... s'cuse me ...' Naomi mumbled as she uprooted an auditorium row full of seated people, who grumbled and made very little effort to give her room to get past.

'Naomi,' her Mum hissed, 'I just _knew_ this would happen ... sorry ... s'cuse ... sorry.'

Naomi looked at her next obstacle. A large, sweaty, grey haired man with massive seventies style glasses and a moustache to match. 'Excuse me sir,' she said quietly, 'You're going to have to make a bit more room, there's a rather fat arse headed this way,' she thumbed backwards in the direction of her mother, who was fumbling her way towards them.

Finally, the two Campbell women sat down, flustered and irritable. Naomi wafted her hat in front of her face. The auditorium was hot, and the air was heavy. Every droplet of moisture seemed to have evaporated from the people on the lower rows to congregate stickily around Naomi, making sure she looked as red and sweaty as possible for her public showing.

Just as she began to feel slightly cooler her shoulder was tapped. She spun round to face the crotch of a pair of purple leggings that clung round legs of a rather large diameter. Looking up she saw the face of an angry looking woman, with permed mouse-brown hair and pursed lips, 'You're in my seat,' the angry face told her.

'Excuse me?' Naomi asked.

'You're in my seat. I'm here to watch my daughter graduate from university, and you're in my seat,' the woman spoke to her as if she was an idiot: slowly with lots of gesturing.

'Alright take it easy,' Naomi said, placing her temporary fan back on her head, 'The seats aren't assigned, sit somewhere else.'

'I think you'll find they are,' the lady said, waving a ticket in Naomi's face.

Naomi read the number on the small piece of card. It read _GUEST: Tier 5, Row 17, Seat 34._

Naomi turned slowly in her chair, to study the number on the small brass plate screwed to the back rest. _34_

'Well,' Naomi said, standing up and gracefully patting down her robe and straightening her cap, 'That all seems to be in order.' She looked down the tiered seats to a collection of black caps belonging to several rows of seated graduates. There were a few less formally dressed people rushing around in front of them, rifling through sheets of paper and pointing to an empty seat.

'I think you're meant to be down there love,' Gina pointed out helpfully.

Naomi glared at her. 'Yeah, thanks.'

The woman huffed at her and sat down heavily in seat 34, row 17, tier 5.

'You're welcome, by the way.' Naomi said.

The woman ignored her.

Suddenly, ear-splitting electronic feedback cut through the auditorium as one of the very small people at the front confronted the microphone.

'**Could the graduate with seat number six on their ticket please come to the front of the auditorium,' **said the voice.

Naomi rolled her eyes. That would be me, she thought, amazed at her own ability to mess up the most straight-forward of events.

She awkwardly clumped down the stairs, hitching up her gown which trailed on the floor. Fortunately, a few people were still trickling in through the double doors at the front of the room, disrupting the spectators enough to ensure that all eyes weren't on her, Naomi, the pleb who hadn't remembered to collect her ticket on the way through the door after signing her name and had left a nice gaping hole in the ordered, alphabetically arranged assortment of caps and gowns.

She reached the table at the front, where a small woman was sat, a stack of papers with lists of names and ticks in front of her.

'Hi,' said Naomi, meekly.

'Seat six?' the woman asked without looking up.

'I guess so,' she said, idly regarding her fingernails, trying to regain some semblance of cool in front of the rows of her peers that had nothing better to look at than the exchange between the two women in front of them.

The woman, satisfied, put a big tick next to the number six. Naomi rolled her eyes. She found the whole process entirely anal.

'Name?' asked the woman.

'Naomi Campbell,' answered Naomi.

The pen that hovered above the paper, scanning quickly up and down the list stopped immediately in its tracks. The hand responsible for its movement stilled. Slowly, the woman at the desk turned her head up, to face the ticket owner of seat number six. It couldn't be, she thought, could it?

Naomi's eyes widened.

'Emily,' she said reflexively, as a face buried under four years of memories was excavated.

Silence twisted and curled between them.

Emily's hair was no longer red, but brown, and slightly wavy and damp, as if she'd come fresh from a shower. But Emily's eyes were the same. Large and deep and brown. And it was these eyes that Naomi had spent so many nights trying to forget. The way Emily's eyes had loved her. The way they would lazily drag their gaze up her body, lingering at her hips, then her chest, then her mouth before finally her looking lovingly into her own eyes. Then the day they had changed. The way they turned away from her, swollen and red from crying.

Emily stared up her, those eyes wide and shocked, her mouth slightly parted as if it had dropped open of its own accord. Then she blinked as if she had snapped herself out of it. 'Naomi Campbell seat six,' she said, bringing her face very close to the sheet of paper and drawing a very heavy tick next to the name, going over it several times as if to convince herself that the person was there.

'Why are you here?' Naomi blurted out.

Emily looked up from the piece of paper. 'I've just got a part-time job at the arts and social studies library at the university,' she explained.

Naomi listened to Emily's voice more than her words. It was low, and soft and husky. And it took all the strength Naomi could muster to not drop everything and flee girlishly from the auditorium right then. She regained control of herself.

'So, shouldn't you be behind a desk demanding fines?' Naomi asked.

Emily smiled, and Naomi melted, 'My roles as a servant of this university stretch far beyond simple book lending,' she said.

'So, you also make tea and photo-copy things?' Naomi taunted.

Emily frowned, 'Well ... yeah. And also,' she countered, 'I assist poor helpless graduate students who are unable to read the numbers on their tickets. I mean, I suppose they were very _small_ numbers ...'

'Actually,' Naomi interrupted Emily's teasing, 'I didn't remember to pick up my ticket.'

'Because that's better,' Emily noted dryly.

Naomi narrowed her eyes at the little Fitch, who seemed to have entirely got over how utterly surreal this whole situation was within a few seconds, whereas Naomi's own brain was adrift in a sea of Emily-inspired emotions, struggling to stay afloat.

Emily gestured to the empty seat ahead of her, 'Please take your seat, I'm very busy and important.'

'Oo yes, those names won't tick themselves,' Naomi jibed, before turning and slumping down in her assigned seat.

She watched as Emily stood up and tucked some stray hair behind her right ear. He fingers were thin and delicate, and Naomi suddenly had a very strong visual flashback of them intertwined with her own.

She looked down at her own empty hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again :)**

**Thank you to everyone that read and/or reviewed. You guys have seriously made my day. I'm really glad you like the concepts and I hope to keep you interested right up to the end :) It's true, the season 4 debris is too demanding a task for me to attempt to clear up. But on the plus side I'm thinking this story is going to be a rather long one, because I'm really enjoying writing it!**

**I'll try to keep updates as frequent as possible without damaging my uni work out-put too much lol. **

**In short, you guys are awesome, please keep the faith, and reviews make me smiley!**

* * *

Emily felt the stare. It scorched her skin like a laser beam from the first row. She nervously played with the ends of her hair, desperate to engage herself in any kind of activity, no matter how mundane, to avoid meeting the eyes that had been fixed on her ever since Naomi had gone to sit down.

Emily had learnt a lot. She had learned how to remain cool in the face of circumstances that weren't exactly what she was expecting. Her mind briefly flitted back to her college days, where she felt every emotion so intensely, so excruciatingly. The days when she couldn't keep her mouth and nerve centre away from each other for two seconds, and everything she was feeling stumbled gracelessly from her lips.

But she knew now, that was not the way to deal with things. That only frightened or enraged the people around her. And it was most definitely not proper practise for a librarian, part-time or otherwise. The tangled mess of hormones that was once Emily Fitch had been nicely straightened out and put in their place, neatly arranged and at their optimum state for someone like Naomi Campbell to thoroughly mess up again.

Emily visibly shook her head. No, that Emily had learnt. In fact, that Emily was grateful in a way. Naomi had taught her a lot. Taught her to calm down, taught her to know when to leave it, taught her relationships are hard work, taught her that sometimes it's just not worth it, and above all, she had taught her that a shattered heart can mend itself, given time.

Naomi frowned as the small brunette she had been studying shook her head slightly. It gave Naomi some hope, that somewhere, beneath the calm and collected exterior of the person she used to know, an internal monologue was babbling away crazily.

Emily went back to her list, counting up every name, every number, every tick. Naomi watched as she soundlessly mouthed the numbers, adding up, twice to make sure, then satisfied, folded the sheets of paper and moved from the table.

Naomi stared as the small, elegant girl confronted an older, more official looking organiser of the event, who nodded at her, making Emily smile. Naomi found the corners of her own mouth curl up slightly, before she stopped them sternly, and her face reverted back to looking thoroughly unimpressed.

And then Emily was gone. Gone through the double doors. Gone out into the corridor. Gone from her life.

Naomi sighed audibly. She tore the graduation cap from her head, suddenly aware she had been wearing it throughout her whole encounter with Emily. 'Fuck's sake,' she muttered as she ran her fingers through her hair agitatedly. She sank lower in her seat into an ungainly slouch, and tried to keep her mind on anything but the small girl who had been rudely plucked from her adolescence and plonked down right in front of her.

She tried to concentrate on the intensely boring procedure at hand, trying her best to keep her eyes on the people on the stage without letting her gaze drift off to the right through the doors to see if any small Fitch-shaped figures still lingered.

The whole process was painfully slow. Every single graduate took an absolute age to get up onto that stage, clearly hyper-aware of not falling over. Naomi imagined herself tripping up the steps on the way, reaching out to grab the nearest thing to steady herself, grasping at someone's trousers, causing them to fall down around their ankles, making them fall over, topple onto Naomi, and their combined weight causing the whole stage to collapse, and once the dust and wood debris had settled there she would be; her head sticking up from the rubble wearing that stupid hat, its tassel swinging in front of her face.

'Naomi Campbell,' her name being called jerked her out of her slap-stick reverie, 'BA honours, Journalism and Politics.'

Naomi stood up to the sound of clapping, and, deciding not to put on her cap, made her way to the steps of the stage. Effectively placing one foot in front of the other, she made it to the top, shook some hands, was gestured by one of the officials to put on her hat, to which she rolled her eyes and sulkily jammed it onto her head, took the piece of paper, smiled falsely, shook one more hand and made her way back down the steps.

As she reached the last step, Naomi saw someone stood in the dark corridor through the small portion of glazing of the double doors. Emily was smiling, her hands beating together reservedly to the rhythm of the applause from the auditorium. But before Naomi could really focus, she was gone.

****

'I'm so proud of you!' Gina exclaimed, embracing her daughter in a suffocating hug.

'Ooof,' was Naomi's response.

'Who'd have thought it, ay?' her mother continued without letting go, 'That little baby I wasn't expecting turned out to be a genius!'

'Mum ... can't breathe,' Naomi said, and her mother relinquished her grasp. Naomi straightened her cap that had been knocked into a jaunty angle during the public display of affection.

'Right then, what's the matter with you?' Gina asked.

'What?' Naomi asked, 'Nothing,' she said quickly before her mother asked the question again.

'Well, it must be something,' Gina went on, 'You look like you want to kill me.'

'Well then, all is as it should be,' Naomi told her with a sweet smile as they began to walk through the foyer of the ceremonial building. The summer sun was bright and warm, intensified through the full height glazed frontage of the foyer, and Naomi could feel herself cooking in her black celebratory robes. She shifted uneasily beneath them.

'Jesus Christ academia is chaffing,' Naomi muttered and she fidgeted with an uncomfortable label at the back of her gown. She had brought a change of clothes, uncomfortable in the smart black trousers and shirt she was required to wear for the graduation, but she most certainly didn't fancy sticking around near the auditorium of doom any longer than she had to and risk bumping into her past again.

She reasoned with herself. Emily had clearly disappeared since she'd seen her briefly in the corridor, and the ceremony had dragged on for what felt like hours since then. It wasn't like she hadn't looked for her. In fact, since leaving the main hall she had done nothing but scan the place, as casually as possible of course, not really knowing if she was hoping to find or not find Emily. Besides, if she changed in a locked in a toilet cubicle, it would be pretty difficult to bump into anyone else, unless something really strange happened.

She handed the graduation cap to her Mum telling her to 'wait two secs,' and walked briskly down the corridor past bustling pockets of the capped and gowned and into the women's toilets as quickly as possible, not wanting to been seen or heard.

Once in the quiet oasis of the fluorescently-lit toilets, she sighed heavily, and turned to face the door to inspect it for a locking mechanism. She found an old rotating catch and thankfully swung in into place. She walked over to the basins fixed to the wall below the mirrors. She leaned forward on the straightened arms she rested on the rim of the sink. Her reflection looked tiredly back at her. 'Fucking typical, isn't it?' she asked the blonde girl in the mirror, who seemed to agree. They shared a knowing look across the shiny surface, remembering painful tweaks of lonely nights being made to feel untouchable, unlovable, destructive and unwanted. She frowned at her sorry self, 'Fuck's sake,' she told the reflection, mentally commanding it to pull itself together.

Turning on the tap she held her hands beneath it and splashed cold water over her face. Its icy bite felt like the satisfying slap she needed to snap out of it. She had spent countless hours agonising over Emily Fitch. Agonising over what she had done, over what she could have done differently, over how she could have won her back. In the end she'd convinced herself it was for the best. Emily's sense of betrayal was cold and unrelenting. Naomi had really had no choice but to let her go. Four years on, she shouldn't still have to be dealing with the consequences of that decision.

She wiped the water from her face with the back of her hand and kicked off her shoes. She then struggled out of her gown and was in the process of un-buttoning her shirt when she heard the bathroom door swing open. Her head snapped up. In the mirrored image of the room she saw her, small and stunned in the corner of the mirror.

Slowly, Naomi turned round, 'That lock doesn't work, huh?' she asked. Great.

Emily, eyes still wide from the shock of who she'd walked in on, turned to inspect the door. She thumbed the catch open and closed, noting the lack of difference it made to the functioning of the door. She shook her head dumbly.

'Well,' Naomi said, 'At lease I wasn't prancing about here in the buff,' she said, more to herself than to Emily.

Emily frowned, finding her voice at least, 'Why would you be doing that?'

'Because I thought the door was locked.'

'This is a public toilet.'

'I'd thank you not to judge.'

Emily twitched her mouth, her gaze darting awkwardly around the room, looking for anywhere to rest other than Naomi's half un-buttoned shirt.

Naomi suddenly realised and cleared her throat, pulling together the separated garment and demanding of Emily, 'Are you just going to stand there?' she immediately regretted her harsh tone.

'No,' Emily answered defensively, 'I came here to wee.' Instantly, Emily felt like an idiot.

'Wonderful, please don't let me stop you,' Naomi said sharply, circling her hand in a 'go right ahead' motion.

Emily disappeared into a cubicle, and Naomi did the same.

Emily heard the soft crumpling and swishing of material as Naomi changed. The shadows on the floor flickered from beneath the partition wall as the girl struggled around in the confined space. Several times Emily heard bangs followed by muttered curses. It was hard not to picture the increasingly agitated, half-naked girl that was separated from her by plasterboard a mere few millimetres thick.

Emily shook her head free of those thoughts that were no longer a part of her life and unlatched the cubicle door. Now would be a very good time to not be here, she surmised. She washed her hands quickly and made for the unlockable door.

She heard a latch release as Naomi appeared from the cubicle, looking flustered and utterly beautiful, free from the confinements of formal wear.

'Emily,' she said quickly, before she disappeared from the room.

Emily paused, her hand on the door handle.

Naomi opened her mouth to say something, but something big and heavy squashed it on the way down from her brain to her mouth.

'... See you around.'

'Yeah.'

Then she left.

Naomi stood dejectedly in the empty room.

Naomi's reflection shot her a scornful look.


	3. Chapter 3

**Good day to you! Thanks once again to all readers, reviewers, supporters, well-wishers and Naomily fans :)**

**Thank you for sticking with me as this story develops. I hope this next chapter does not disappoint. If it does, I apologise, and can only offer you the solemn promise that it will improve as the story progresses. Hopefully in the next couple of chapters I can draw together some of the threads I've been hinting at.**

**Please keep on reading, and just generally doing what it is you do!**

**Once again, positive or negative or somewhere in between, let's have that feedback!**

* * *

Emily leaned heavily on the stone wall, the brick coping warm against her backside. She inhaled smoke gratefully, her brain calming down momentarily as the chemicals percolated through her system.

Naomi _fucking_ Campbell. She snorted smoke out at the absurdity.

Ever since primary school that girl had managed to work her way into the fore-front of her mind, scraping away at the surface of her consciousness, feeling completely under her skin. Then there was that brief time in her life when they'd been together. It felt odd to Emily now, that that had happened. It felt like a dream, or like something that had happened to somebody else a long time ago. Everything was so much more sensible now, so much easier. She understood everyone in her life, every single one of her friends selected for the most sensible of reasons. They were _good _for her. What she had now was _good. _A chance meeting of several minutes with Naomi fucking Campbell was going to erode away that stability.

Her phone buzzed from inside her pocket startling her so much she dropped the cigarette that hung loosely between her fingers.

She looked sadly at the little stick before retrieving the phone and sliding it open.

'Hi,' Emily said, absent-mindedly scraping her fingernails along the bricks.

'Emily,' said Katie importantly, 'Where the hell have you been? I've been ringing you all morning.'

'Yeah I had to turn my phone off, I had that graduation ceremony, remember?' Emily shook her head at her sister's inability to register that other people had things to do that didn't necessarily involve her.

'Oh right,' Katie said, not remembering at all, 'what's that got to do with the library?'

Emily sighed, 'They needed help, and I'm their new paper-work monkey. You know how it is,' she said, knowing that Katie didn't know at all.

'Right, whatever,' Katie verbally brushed it aside, 'Look, Nat's been calling me all day.'

Emily cringed, 'Why's she been calling you?'

'Yeah that's what I want to fucking know, Emily,' Katie told her, 'She's been calling me asking where you are, when I think you'll be back, what you're doing, if you're free tonight, and there's only so many times I can tell her that I don't fucking know.'

'Couldn't you just say I'm ill or something?' Emily asked.

'Fuck off,' Katie told her, 'I'm not like ... your secretary or something, here to ... fend off _lezzer_ advances.'

'I think you've been grossly misinformed about secretaries,' Emily noted.

Katie ignored her. 'Besides, Nat's ... you know ... nice,' Katie said, 'I think you should go out with her again.'

Emily snorted, 'Yeah sure, nothing to do with the fact her cousin plays for Arsenal.'

'It wouldn't hurt you to network, Ems,' Katie said testily.

'I just don't really, you know ... like ... feel it with her,' Emily tried to explain.

'Ew,' Katie remarked, 'I don't want to know what you feel up with her.'

Emily sighed and shook her head.

'Look, just tell me when you're going to be back,' Katie said.

'At about five, when I've finished up here,' Emily said, clutching the phone between her head and shoulder and fumbling around for another cigarette from her packet.

'Great, if she calls me again I'm telling her that,' Katie said finally before hanging up.

'KATIE!' Emily shouted, but too late. The bitch had gone.

'Fuck.'

Emily irritably stuck a cigarette between her lips, shaking the lighter in frustration when it refused to spark. Her phone bleeped once more. She let out a noise of utter exasperation as she read the message from her sister: 'Nat's coming over at 6 xxx'.

****

Naomi had artistically draped herself across on a bench outside a café of a university building. She had dropped her mum at the station a few hours ago, leaving her with the parting words 'Get a car you fucking hippy,' and was now free to wallow in self reflection, or more precisely, in undiluted Emily Fitch.

She found her mind happily and carelessly scampering down paths of possible engineered meetings: like accidentally bumping into her at the library, accidentally taking out loads of books and letting them become overdue, accidentally having to pay her a nice fat fine, accidentally telling her she'd work the fine off in other way, accidentally winking suggestively at her.

She stopped herself abruptly as a remembered image of a very sad, very defeated Emily was slapped onto the canvas of her mind. You just can't rebuild someone once you've fractured them like that, thought Naomi. Not once you're the cause of that look, that heart-wrenching look. She'd known it four years ago and she knew it now.

What bothered her was, the two times she'd seen Emily today, she'd seen nothing in her eyes but surprise. She could read no other emotion. Whereas she was sure her own eyes were an absolute analogy for longing, despair and heartache. Naomi's eyes were always what gave her away.

She shook her head at the ridiculousness of the situation. Here she was, once again reduced to obsessing over Emily Fitch. Had she not grown up? Had she not moved on? And why was it bothering her so much? After all, as her brain harshly scolded, she'd ended it in the first place; and with good reason. Why fixate on an old decision that was made for the best.

She stared through the window of the university building, trying to see beyond her own scowling reflection, desperate for any mindless nonsense that would fill her whirring mind with visual slush. She closed her eyes in frustration at her own absurdity.

'Okay, fine I'll go,' she said suddenly, as if she'd been having a long debate, and had conceded failure. She stood up and made her way to the front entrance of the library. She probably won't even be there, she thought, unsure if she found that prospect comforting or disheartening.

Naomi was all too familiar with the arts and social studies library. She had spent most of her university life within its walls, frantically typing essays to meet deadlines, feverishly researching philosophic theorems, becoming well acquainted with the political theorists of the early twentieth century, learning the ancient and carefully guarded craft of printing without having to pay, a tradition passed down from third years to freshers if they deemed them worthy.

For several of these reasons, Naomi felt that it was perfectly feasible for her to be back in this library, innocently looking through the book stacks. She was doing research, she would say: research for her important journalism job that she would quickly make up if asked about it.

A low feminine voice cut through the hushed silence of the library, 'Okay, they're due back on the 23rd,' said Emily before smiling sweetly at the greasy looking student at the front desk, his trousers hanging well below his arse, his dirty blonde hair scraped back into a pony tail. She handed him his books, which he took with a muttered, 'Yeah, got it.'

'You're being too nice Emily,' said a tall boy that stood next to her behind the desk, 'You've got to be firmer and meaner, or they just don't take you seriously.'

'Oh yeah?' Emily asked, already tired of his advice, which he was giving more to make her feel inexperienced and inferior rather than to be helpful. She knew the type. He reminded her briefly of her mother. 'So how would you say it then Kyle?'

'I'll show you,' he said, clearly thrilled at the prospect of displaying his advanced book-lending skills. He took a book from the hands of the next customer, scanned it and handed it back saying, 'Listen _love_, this is due back on the 23rd. Do _not _be late, or we will fine you.'

'What the fuck is your problem tosser?' Naomi demanded, her expression incredulous.

Emily's hand quickly darted to her mouth to stifle a laugh. Kyle looked stunned. He looked at both women, before flouncing off from the desk to the trolley of returned books, wheeling it away to get over his embarrassment with some simple, therapeutic shelf-stacking.

'Poor Kyle,' Emily mused, 'He had no idea who he was dealing with.'

'Yeah he's a twat, he's kicked me out of here once before,' Naomi answered, narrowing her eyes in his direction.

'Why?' asked Emily.

Naomi smiled at the memory, 'Oh it was really funny. It was really late one night and I was –' Naomi caught Emily's disapproving look. She cleared her throat, 'erm ... studying. I was studying.'

'He sent you out for studying?' Emily asked.

'Studying ... too hard,' concluded Naomi, 'I was becoming a danger to myself and others.'

'You're a terrible liar,' Emily said.

'And you're a stuck up cow,' Naomi replied.

The two girls let the silence between them linger for a few seconds. It was Emily that began to giggle first, Naomi joining in half a second later. It lifted the thick atmosphere they had both been ignoring since the graduation ceremony. Naomi watched Emily through eyes crinkled with laughter, stopping when she noticed how beautiful Emily was when she laughed.

Emily's laughs slowed to a halt when she realised Naomi was gazing at her. The silence returned.

'So, other than clearly stalking me, why are you here?' asked Emily, breaking the delicate quiet.

'Er, hello?' Naomi said, waving her newly acquired book in Emily's face, 'Here to partake in the radical new practise of borrowing a book from a library.'

Emily narrowed her eyes at Naomi.

'Stop squinting at me you weirdo,' Naomi said, trying to regain the light-hearted mood they had managed to scrape together.

'So what's the book for?' Emily asked.

'Research,' Naomi answered quickly.

'Research for what? You've finished your degree haven't you?'

'Research for my job. I'm a journalist,' Naomi said, her eyes flitting away from Emily's, conscious of lying.

Emily took the book from Naomi's clutch and read the title out loud, 'Seeking equity for women in journalism and mass communication education,' She snorted softly, 'You don't change your tune do you?'

Naomi rolled her eyes, 'Whatever,' she snatched the book back.

'Who do you write for?' Emily asked, with genuine interest.

'I'm erm ... freelance,' Naomi said. 'So,' Naomi shifted from foot to foot, her mind quietly but insistently requesting that she asked Emily something, her mouth remaining firmly shut, not willing to let anything of the sort escape from it.

'So,' Emily repeated, intrigued, despite herself, as to why the blonde hadn't left yet. She tried to tell her body to stop reacting to Naomi's presence, tried to tell her brain to stop insistently yelling at her 'Naomi Campbell's talking to me!', tried to quell her quickening heart beat with memories of heartbreak. It wasn't working. Emily knew that the seventeen year old version of herself was stirring within her, tugging at her arm, demanding that she paid some attention to what it was asking for. The difference was, this time she wasn't going to let it take over her life. She was stronger, more sure of herself, and definitely wasn't going to allow herself to be played with and tossed aside by Naomi Campbell.

'What time do you finish?' Naomi finally asked, after what felt like an eternity of uncomfortable silence.

'Five,' replied Emily.

'So ... um,' continued Naomi, unsure of what to do with that information, 'I could buy you a coffee?' she asked quietly, her eyes down, staring intently at the book in her hands. She looked back up at Emily after a few seconds, as if trying to pretend her mind had been elsewhere.

Emily looked at Naomi, fragility peering through the girl's forced expression of indifference. 'I can't,' she said softly, 'I've got plans with ... someone.' Emily felt instantly awful that she was using her date with Nat as an excuse. But she knew she put herself is far less danger if she let Naomi believe she was seeing someone.

'Oh, okay,' Naomi said, looking back down at her book. 'Another time maybe,' she said, with a small half smile.

'Maybe,' Emily said, with a simple nod, but no accompanying smile.

Naomi felt the barb. And she understood. Her hopes lay splintered on the floor around her. She left the desk with a head-bob instead of a goodbye, walking quickly, as if she thought that if she left quickly enough she could go back in time and the whole conversation would have never happened.

Emily watched her go.

It's for the best, for both of us, she told herself mentally, her brain echoing words that Naomi had tearfully spoken to her, four years ago.


	4. Chapter 4

**Greetings, gentle viewers. Thank you so much for all your support, whether it's in the form of hits to the site, reviews, or just telepathically willing me to update :)**

**Thanks for sticking with the story up to now, I know I'm taking things kinda slow, but I just want to make it believable, and give us all time to get to know the characters now they're all growed up.**

**But no, seriously, thanks for being awesome, and rest safe in the knowledge that you guys are making this story happen!**

**Have a nice day**

**-----------------**

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck ... Naomi's brain chanted the mantra as she paced her room. She felt like a complete fool, and looking back on her encounter with Emily at the library, she couldn't have done a more convincing impersonation of a stalker. She felt resentful towards Emily, jealous of her cool and calm attitude, of her thoroughly convincing act of indifference. A cold thought shot through Naomi's buzzing mind: it's not an act. She just doesn't care.

With that thought, all other thoughts screeched to a halt. Defeated, Naomi slumped down onto her bed. This had to stop.

****

Nat was already there when Emily got home.

Emily had cycled home the long way through the park and round the lake, telling herself she was making the most of the gorgeous weather, secretly knowing that she was actually hoping to take so long that Nat would give up and go home.

She swung a leg over the bike, cruising on one pedal into the drive in front of her house, before she dismounted and wheeled it to the gate at the side of the house. Opening the gate she gave the bike a final push and let it go, leaving it to totter forwards for a few seconds before collapsing to the left.

'Emily!' whined a voice, 'Be more careful with my bike will you!' her brother appeared from round the back of the house, pointing accusatorily at the collapsed bike.

'Um, no James, I don't think I will,' she stated, 'and it's not yours, I just lent it to you while I was away.'

James huffed, hands on hips, 'It _is _mine,' he whinged, 'and I'm going to tell Mum you stole it.'

'Fine,' said Emily, 'Then I'll tell Mum you stole her box of tampons to make costume jewellery.'

'It's for an art project,' James said quickly.

'I don't care what it's for you creepy little perv,' Emily told the annoying adolescent. She resented having to live at home, especially after being spoiled with living on her own during university.

'There's a _girl_ here to see you,' James informed her, changing the subject.

Emily inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She was most definitely not in the mood for socialising.

'Has she been here long?' she asked her brother, who shrugged.

'I don't know,' he answered, 'Her boobs are bigger than your last girlfriend's,' he noted astutely.

'She's not my girlfriend,' Emily hissed at him, 'And shut up,' she added.

'She wants to touch your fanny!' he said, before running off.

Emily's jaw and fists clenched. She'd spent years waiting for James to turn into a normal person, hoping that when he grew up a bit he'd at least stop peering through keyholes to watch her and Katie change. But it seemed that puberty had only compounded the problem.

She gingerly made her way into the house, opening and closing the front door with the silence of a ninja, well-practised in the art of sneaking out and back in without waking her parents.

But Katie was not to be fooled, 'Here she is now,' Emily heard her say from the kitchen, just before she was able to dash up the stairs.

Emily cringed as she aborted the mission.

'Where the fuck have you been?' Katie demanded of her in a harsh whisper as she materialised in the hall. 'Nat's been here for half an hour!'

'And whose fault is that?' Emily hissed back at her.

'Hi Emily,' said another voice, as a third girl appeared from the kitchen, and gave a little wave.

'Hi Nat,' Emily replied, her tone changing suddenly to sweet and light. 'Sorry I'm late, got held up at work.'

'That's okay,' Nat replied, good-naturedly, 'Katie kept me company.'

'Good good,' Emily said, eyeing her sister, 'Talk about anything interesting?'

'Just general stuff: life, love, families,' said Nat, giggling girlishly, 'Turns out Katie's an Arsenal supporter, so she was totally psyched to hear my cousin played for them.'

'No way,' Emily said, the simple statement loaded with sarcasm that completely evaded Nat's notice, 'What a freakish coincidence.'

'I know!' Nat said enthusiastically.

Emily suddenly felt a small pang of guilt. The girl was clearly lovely, well-meaning and admittedly very attractive. But Emily's mind was elsewhere, her thoughts enveloped in the steely gaze of the blue eyes that she'd met today, and as frustrating as she found it, it was all she could think about.

'... which you're both totally welcome to come to,' Emily was rudely snapped back into the situation at hand, realising she'd zoned out.

'Yeah, we'd love to, wouldn't we Em?' Katie said, jabbing her sister discreetly in the side, noticing her eyes had glazed.

'We would?' asked Emily, entirely unaware of what was happening.

Katie rolled her eyes in exasperation. 'Yeah, we'd love to go to Nat's cousin's birthday party and mingle with the _totally exclusive_ guest list.'

Emily looked at her sister, then at Nat, who was in turn looking hopefully back at her, 'Oh ... erm ... yeah. Absolutely. Wouldn't miss it,' she concluded, slightly unsure as to what she had just agreed to.

'Cool,' said Nat, 'I'll let Russ know. Oh, and there'll be some press people there. You know, journalists and photographers and stuff. That's okay right?' she asked Emily.

'Of course,' Katie answered for her as Emily opened her mouth to speak. 'Now aren't you two crazy love birds off out?'

Nat giggled and Emily glared.

****

It was another depressingly beautiful day. The sun rose early, stretching yawning streaks of pink and orange across the hazy morning sky. The spreading light stirred the small birds of the morning, and they greeted the warm sun with sweet and cheerful song, which in turn woke the larger, uglier birds that seemed to congregate near Naomi's window, dragging her out of a sporadic sleep pattern with their choking cackles and drawing her from her bed in a thoroughly foul mood. It did not bode well for the rest of the day.

Spurred on by the slanging match that shortly followed her rude awakening with one of her house mates as to why she was such a bitch, Naomi slammed the front door of her house and almost stomped down the avenues of grotty student terraces until she reached the university campus.

The fact that her housemate had been entirely justified in calling her a complete and utter bitch that morning was irrelevant. It was the principle that counted. And the principle was that she wasn't going to get anywhere if she continued to mope around feeling sorry for herself. And the first thing on her agenda designed to mentally give herself a kick up the arse was to strike the name 'Emily Fitch' from the list of things in her life that she should be concerned about. She was going to march down to that library right now, return the stupid book she had borrowed (which she knew from cover to cover anyway) walk out and forever turn her back on the library and everything in it. Emily clearly couldn't give a flying fuck if she ever saw her again, so she decided to make it mutual, roughly choking down the feelings that had flooded to the surface since she'd seen her at graduation and resolving to ignore the dull ache until it ebbed. She'd done it before. It would be easier the second time round.

Blissfully unaware of the hurricane that was soon to tear through the library doors, Emily sat behind the front desk staring blankly at a computer screen, accompanied only by the sound of faint static humming from the screen and occasional clicks of the mouse.

Stupid Katie. Stupid Katie and her ability to manufacture situations to suit her own schemes, Emily's mind mumbled irritably. She scowled and crossed her arms like a brat as she thought about her sister's smug expression before she had left the house last night.

Her date with Nat had been clunky and awkward. She found herself yawning throughout most of the dialogue, which was geared primarily towards how much fun they were going to have at the footballers' party. Nat had smiled and laughed the whole way through: cheerful, friendly and good-natured. Emily found herself wanting to yell at the girl, wanting her to get angry with her, wanting her to snap her out of the lull she had let herself slip into. Emily felt like she needed to be shaken awake. Whatever poor excuse for a relationship she might end up scraping together with Nat would most likely come to a shuddering halt as Emily's interest declined until it was off the scale.

'It's not 'cool' to be distant, Emily,' the voice of a sad ex-girlfriend from university echoed in her mind, 'It just hurts, and unless you realise that you're going to end up sad and alone.'

Emily shook her head. _Women_. So very predictable. And the thing was, Emily had learnt, that it _was_ cool to be distant. There was no better way to make a woman desperately desire you than to seem aloof and mysterious. Well, there were better ways, but this way was far more wholesome. Emily didn't do it on purpose. She hated the kind of girls who did, some of whom she'd been unfortunate enough to know. Emily told herself she just hadn't found that elusive _someone_ yet. What she neatly skipped over was the fact that she didn't care if she did.

She knew how it must appear to others, and she was hyper-aware of how Katie saw the whole business: poor, crushed Emily, heart-broken and feverishly scared to love again. But that wasn't it at all. She was damaged, yes; disillusioned, maybe; but scared? Definitely not.

She sighed and continued to trawl through e-mail requests for books that the library failed to stock, composing a list and checking it against a budget. The library was quiet. The summer holidays were approaching and most students were locked up in examination rooms, with only a few post-graduate or research students left free to populate the libraries.

She looked up from her work when she heard doors open, and was greeted with the sight of a very flustered blonde girl power-walking towards her, gripping a book tightly, with a thunderous expression on her face. The small smile that the sight of Naomi had induced on Emily's face was quickly scared off by the force with which the book was slammed down on the desk in front of her.

Emily looked down at the book, then back up at Naomi. 'No good?' she ventured.

'No,' Naomi said firmly, 'Pretty goddamn shit actually.'

Emily carefully took the book off the counter, scanned it and put it to one side.

'Okay,' she said. When Naomi didn't move she felt obliged to inquire, 'Is there anything else?'

Naomi narrowed her eyes at the small girl in front of her. She looked squarely back at her. Not timid, not shocked, not concerned, not anything but completely calm. Naomi felt her anger ebb to be replaced only with the empty feeling of hopelessness.

'Yeah,' Naomi said quietly, Emily noticed the shift in her mood, 'Look, I'm not technically a student here anymore, so I may as well hand this back in,' Naomi dug into her pocket and retrieved her library card, knowing it had to be returned sooner or later due to its valuable 24-hour access chip. The university clearly thought that a gang of youths would be drawn to a centre of learning to stage a break-in.

She placed the card in Emily's small hand. Her fingers closed around it. 'Right,' Emily said, looking down at her clasped hand, 'Okay. Thanks.'

Naomi didn't know what she was expecting. Maybe the gesture hadn't been clear enough. The handing over of her library card to Emily was meant to be significant. The girl was meant to recognise that it symbolised Naomi walking out of her life.

Emily put the card down next the book Naomi had returned. Naomi watched as she turned her attention back to her computer screen. She waited for a few more seconds, and then turned, and began to walk away.

Emily glanced sideways from the screen, her gaze landing on the small, faded and slightly pixelated passport-size photo of Naomi that stared up at her from the deserted library card. She took a deep breath.

'Naomi,' she said, softly. The sound travelled effortlessly in the soundless library.

Naomi stopped, inwardly rejoicing, outwardly looking mildly pissed off. She turned and walked slowly back to the desk.

'You're a journalist, right?' Emily asked, once Naomi was back at the desk.

Naomi nodded.

'Well, I've got this ... um ... friend,' Emily skirted the issue, 'and her cousin is Russ Evans, the footballer?'

Naomi looked at her blankly.

'He plays for Arsenal?'

Naomi looked at her blankly.

'Anyway,' Emily continued, 'He's having a party next week, and there's going to be loads of press there. I thought, maybe, you could see if you could get an exclusive.'

Naomi frowned, 'A party full of brainless misogynistic men and idiotic plastic-chested women?' she clarified, 'Not really my scene Ems.'

The abbreviation of her name caught them both by surprise, triggering memories that were difficult not to dwell on.

'Not what I meant,' Emily said, shooting Naomi a 'come on, seriously?' look. 'I thought maybe you'd be interested from a feminist point of view.'

Naomi's expression switched from unimpressed to vaguely interested.

Emily continued, 'You know, like 'look at how far girls will go to get with footballers ... something something ... the decay of western society ... yadda yadda ...' she wafted her hand to elaborate. 'You know, that kind of stuff.'

Naomi smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly. 'I see,' she said quietly.

'Look, if you're not interested–'

'I never said I wasn't interested.'

'Well ... good. Maybe you should come then.'

'Maybe I will.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Everybody loves a bit of build up, right? **

**Also, eternal gratitude to all :)**

**Have a nice day**

* * *

Naomi's thumb pressed slowly onto the plastic key, scrolling through the names in the contact list of her phone.

...Chris

Darren

Dave

Ellie

Emily...

She paused, relishing the sight of that name in the list. She remembered the last time it had been there, on the screen of an out-dated mobile. She'd got through at least seven phones since then, losing them to theft, forgetfulness, drunken emptying of bag-contents onto the floor whilst looking for cigarettes, dropping them in the bath, dropping them from the balcony, lobbing them at others in fits of anger, and the plain old leaving them in a jeans' pocket and putting them through the slow spin cycle.

She had never deleted her number, and had spent many nights with her thumb poised over the call button, Emily's name highlighted on the screen. But once the phone that held the number had gone, so had the last traces of Emily, and, out of contact and forever out of reach, Naomi had let her slip entirely away.

She mulled over her current situation: an invitation from Emily Fitch to a friend's cousin's birthday party, to possibly gain inspiration for a feminist article regarding the thoroughly horrifying and depressing culture of women desperate to shag a footballer. It was so very surreal.

Of course, she didn't have to accept the invitation. She could politely decline. Or, more true to style, just not turn up. Naomi wondered if Emily would care - if she would spend the whole duration of the party looking out for her. She highly doubted it.

Nonetheless, it was poor etiquette not to RSVP to an invitation, and Naomi, after briefly wondering when the hell etiquette became one of her concerns, concluded that she should let Emily know of her decision.

The hesitant thumb pushed bravely down onto the call button.

****

Emily felt, very strongly, that she had been patient enough. She didn't have time for people that wasted her time anymore. Not because she was too busy, but because she couldn't be bothered to be pushed around, made to wait, and just generally to be treated like she was insignificant anymore.

'KATIE!' she banged bad-temperedly on the bathroom door, 'Get out of the _fucking_ shower!'

The door clicked open, and Katie regarded her twin with a slight frown from beneath the towel she has twisted on top of her head.

'Please tell me you're nearly ready,' she said, looking Emily up and down.

Emily looked at her incredulously. She was already on edge this morning, and her sister's self-absorbed attitude was most definitely not helping.

'Yes, Katie, I am ready,' she told her, 'As you can see I'm sporting the latest in the line of pyjama-chic, designed for slumber-inducing comfort at work, at home, or on the move. Note the delicate winnie the pooh embroidery at the pockets and the fetching slack-elastic bunching at the waist. This is a look that ensures you'll be the centre of attention in any situation.'

'Emily, stop being a dick,' Katie scolded her, unwinding her head-piece and tousling her hair, 'I'm serious, the taxi will be here soon.'

'I know that,' said Emily, shoving past her sister into the steamy bathroom, 'I'm not the one who just spent over an hour in here!'

'Jesus, will you calm down?' Katie requested of her sister, 'I've _got _to look my best. Who've you got to impress? Nat's already wrapped round your little finger.'

Emily slammed the bathroom door.

'God knows why!' Katie yelled at the door, 'You're a bitch!'

Emily had to rush her shower, which was nothing more than a cold trickle by the time Katie was done with it, and was thankful she'd picked out her outfit the previous night. She was struggling into her tights, doing the patented hop-and shimmy manoeuvre when Katie called up to her that the taxi was there. The shout was followed by a sharp bang as the front door was closed.

'Fuck's sake,' Emily muttered, grabbing her shoes and bag on the way out of her room, roughly pulling them on once she was out of the front door. She climbed into the taxi, slamming the door and sitting down huffily next to her sister. She crossed her arms irritably and stared straight ahead of her.

Her gaze made fleeting eye-contact with the taxi driver's in his rear-view mirror.

'Twins!' he said, with a stupid grin.

'Well done!' Emily shot back sarcastically, earning her a stern look from her sister, and causing the taxi driver to avert his eyes and jerkily pull away from the drive.

'What's your problem?' Katie asked.

Emily turned to face her, 'You,' she told Katie, who opened her mouth instantly to retaliate, but Emily continued, 'You're my problem. I don't even want to go to this stupid thing. I don't want to see Nat, I don't want to be surrounded by stupid footballers who are just going to go: 'Oh hot twin action, is it?' And I don't want to watch you fawning all over them like some brainless bint who doesn't know any better.'

'... brainless bint?' was Katie's only interjection.

'And why does it have to start at eleven in the _fucking_ morning?' she demanded to know, the quiet cab offering her no answer.

Katie sat in silence. She hated Emily when she got like this: loud and self-righteous. It was like Emily had so much pent-up passion, and nowhere to expend it that she just let it all out as aggression. The one redeeming factor was that it didn't happen all that often. But when it did, Katie knew to stay out of it. She wished Emily would just find a nice girl and settle down, someone to give her stability, or motivation, or, at the very least, a target at which to direct her energy. But each girlfriend or however Emily saw them only lasted a couple of months at most. It was like Emily had just lost interest.

The sound of Emily's voice drew Katie out of her worries, 'Could you stop at the Londis at the end of this street?' Emily asked, leaning forwards towards the driver.

'Huh?' Katie asked, 'Aren't we picking Nat up from her house?'

'We're picking Nat up?' Emily spun round to face her twin, her face a picture of anguish.

'Yeah ... I thought I told you last night Em.'

Emily's mind whirred. Firstly, she was furious at Katie for making plans that involved her without having the courtesy of telling her. And secondly, the fateful moment that she had been dreading since she'd woken up that morning had just been given an upgrade into cataclysmic.

The taxi pulled off the road and swung round past fuel pumps to the front of the petrol station.

Katie's confused frown shot upwards as her eyes widened at the sight of the girl who was approaching the vehicle. The girl confidently reached for the handle and pulled the backdoor open.

'Hi Emily,' said Naomi with a smile, before turning her attention to the second twin, 'You're going to have to scootch up Katiekins.'

****

The next five minutes were the most excruciating ones of her life.

Other than an initial: 'Emily, what the fuck?' which was graciously ignored, the journey had been silent, the ball of concentrated rage on the left hand side of the backseat occupying itself with trying to bore holes in the side of Emily's head by means of an unrelenting stare.

Naomi stared intently at her knees, her hands resting quietly in her lap. She ran through last night's events in her mind: calling Emily to tell her she couldn't make the party, and changing her mind at the very last minute having heard Emily's voice. Right now, she wished she'd stuck with her original decision. She frowned at her knees, as if they were to blame for all of this. She'd been warned Katie would be there, but she didn't realise that Katie herself hadn't been warned, and she hadn't banked on being this close to her when she found out.

The quiet rumbling of the engine did nothing to infiltrate the silence that filled the taxi.

The taxi-driver glanced at his mirror now and then to look at the girls on his backseat, all of them looking in opposite directions. 'Where's this next house then love?' he asked, addressing Emily, whom he'd figured as the central character of the soap opera that had climbed into the back of his cab.

'Second turning on the right,' Emily said croakily, 'Number 23.'

Naomi resisted the urge to ask who else was about to join the fun.

When the taxi pulled up in front of a large, 1920's style house in a lovely, well-kept and hugely expensive neighbourhood, Emily immediately unclipped her seatbelt in order to struggle free from the suffocating atmosphere of the car. Katie didn't budge to let her past, and Emily turned to Naomi, who held her gaze for a few seconds before unclipping her own belt and stepping out of the car to let Emily out.

The small girl walked briskly up to the door of the house as Naomi slumped back into the car.

Katie looked over to Naomi, who returned her death-stare unfalteringly. Katie let out a noise of abhorrence before getting out of the car herself, rushing over to Emily and grabbing her brusquely by the arm. 'What the fuck is that _bitch _doing here?' she demanded.

Emily lifted a fist and rapped neatly on the front door. 'I met her at the university. She's a journalist.'

'No, she's a cold-blooded bitch that broke your fucking heart Emily,' Katie corrected her, looking intently into her sister's eyes, her grip tightening around her arm as she yanked her back from the door.

Emily crossly shook her sister's hand from her arm. 'That was four years ago Katie. Can't you just forget about it?'

'No I can't just fucking forget about it!' Katie ranted, 'And neither can you. You knew this was wrong, otherwise you would have told me about it.'

Emily averted her gaze as her sister told her what she knew was true.

Naomi watched the whole exchange through the window of the car. She didn't need to hear it to know exactly what was being said.

The taxi driver caught her eye, 'Twins, ay?' he said.

Naomi rolled her eyes at him.

Her attention was forcefully jerked back to the front of the house when a girl appeared in the doorway, interrupting the feud that was happening on her doorstep. She stared, her stomach churning as the girl leaned forward and kissed Emily's lips, before turning and locking the front door.

As the band of girls walked back to the taxi Naomi rummaged quickly through her bag, retrieving her phone and busying herself with deleting old text messages in an effort to make it look like she hadn't been watching Emily the whole time.

The girls piled back into the taxi, the new one getting into the front seat. She whipped round immediately to greet Naomi.

'Hi, I'm Nat,' she said in a friendly tone, offering out her hand to be shaken. Naomi gingerly took it.

'Naomi,' was all she said, withdrawing her hand quickly.

'Emily tells me you're a writer,' she continued.

'Yeah,' Naomi answered shortly, not wanting the conversation to continue any longer. The sight of the slender, elegant and beautiful girl talking to her was enough to make her want to be sick. Why the fuck had Emily invited her? Just to rub it in her face how over her she was? What a beautiful girlfriend she had now?

Katie shot a look past Emily directly at Naomi. She had a disgustingly smug smirk on her face as she nodded towards Nat, as if to say 'yeah, Emily's hitting that.'

Naomi huffed and slumped back against the seat, returning to gazing out of the window, wishing she was anywhere but this close to Emily right now.

Emily stared straight ahead of her as the taxi rumbled on. It was going to be a long day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Greetings all :)**

**Before you read this chapter I'd like to make a few points. **

**1.) I actually quite like football lol.**

**2.) I also love Katie's character, and she goes a lot deeper than this, but for the purposes of this chapter I'm not using her to her full potential. **

**3.) I really hope you like this chapter, I know a few of you were looking forward to this part of the story, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. If it does, I'm truly sorry. How can I make it up to you?**

**Stick with me guys. And help me via feedback :)**

**Have a nice day**

* * *

It was like stepping into a nightmare. Actually, that was untrue; it was like switching from one nightmare to another.

There was hardly any whisper of shadow on the ground as the hot yellow sun climbed to its midday position and Emily walked slowly up to the massive house, which was stark white and huge, punctuated with dark glass openings that looked like they wanted to swallow her up. Her small, quiet feet crunched along the gravel beneath them.

Either side of the drive was a thick, deep green, sculpted hedge; thick dark boundary lines edging her procession towards the house. It made Emily feel trapped. She looked back the way she'd come. The taxi was disappearing into the distance from beyond the vertical bars of the security gate she had been let through.

The only way now was forwards.

The quickening crunching behind her informed her that Katie was chomping at the bit to get inside the house. 'Hurry up Em,' she told her as she shot past her, her heels causing mini land-slides in the gravel beneath her, making her totter unsteadily but doing nothing to slow her down. Emily felt a warm hand slip into her own. She looked up at Nat, who smiled at her affectionately. Despite everything, she gripped onto the hand, grateful for its gentle support.

Naomi hung back, sulkily kicking up the gravel as she made even slower progress towards the house. The sun felt like hot, burning breath on her face and exposed shoulders. Her jaw clenched as she looked towards the three girls ahead of her, two of them joined at the hands. Emily had never promised her anything more than this: she'd said it was an opportunity for her to write, not to spend quality time together. She should be grateful Emily was leaving her to work.

She watched as Emily stopped ahead of her, leaning over to tell Nat something, who nodded and continued to walk forwards, catching up with Katie who looked on the verge of breaking into a trot. Emily waited for Naomi to reach her, and Naomi couldn't help smiling at the shorter girl. The bewildered expression that had dawned on Emily's face since they'd pulled up to the security gate changed into something slightly amused and cheeky as she locked eyes with Naomi, who slowed to a stop as she reached her.

They turned as another car pulled through the gate. The driver immediately hopped out to open the passenger door, and then the back door. A clan of bleach-blonde, scantily-clad, jabbering women stepped out: all cleavage and thigh. Emily and Naomi exchanged a look before beginning to laugh.

'What the fuck are we doing here Em?' Naomi asked.

'I don't know,' Emily answered, shaking her head with a smile, 'I think Katie calls it networking.'

'I'm sure there's a more appropriate word for what Katie has in mind.'

'She is rather shameless,' Emily agreed.

'I'm fairly sure there are hippos with more social decorum.'

The squealing blondes had all linked arms at this point and were parading up to the house, all suffering from the minor gravel subsidence that Katie had experienced. They breezed past Emily and Naomi like they were a part of the landscape, but they were treated to a brief snippet of their conversation.

'No ... because he touched Chantelle's tits right, once, at a club.'

'No way!'

'Yeah and he's like totally fit.'

The girls continued past them.

'Somehow, I don't think social decorum is high on anyone's list,' Emily mused, watching the line of backsides jiggle towards the house.

Emily and Naomi sighed heavily in unison, before trudging up to the house. The white balloons attached with ribbon to the hedge wiggled at them in the gentle breeze.

Nat was waiting for them at the door, a lanky boy stood next to her, skinny but with sinewy, wiry muscles. His hair was dark and messy, framing his painfully good looking face, a well trimmed beard outlining his perfect smile. He'd packed himself poorly into a suit that he looked entirely wrong in.

'Emily this is Russ,' Nat said, beaming at the brunette. Naomi trailed in behind. 'Oh, and this is Naomi,' she added, smiling warmly at her.

'Emily! Naomi!' he said, throwing his skinny arms back in a gesture of welcome directed at both of them, 'Awesome. Love it.'

'Hi,' Emily said shyly. Naomi said nothing.

'Thought you were only bringing one girl Natalie,' he turned to his cousin, 'And you turn up with three. Dirty girl! Yes, love it!'

Emily could almost hear Naomi rolling her eyes.

'Hang on,' said Russ, something dawning on him, 'Aren't you ...' he looked around in search of Katie, who had disappeared into the crowd.

'I'm Katie's twin,' Emily explained, before he hurt himself trying to work it out.

'Yes!' exclaimed Russ, finding the whole situation fantastic, 'Love it! Are you the evil one?'

' ... um.'

'No, Katie's got that covered,' Naomi interrupted.

Emily smiled. Nat looked at her quizzically. Russ looked Naomi up and down, clearly pleased with what he saw.

'Well go on through, lovely ladies,' he stepped aside, 'Help yourself to whatever you want,' he laboured the point as he looked at Naomi, 'champagne, food, my gorgeous body ... ay? Yeah?' he winked cheekily at Naomi, before flashing her that same good-natured, genuine smile his cousin had been blessed with. Naomi found herself smiling despite herself. Her inner feminist put a stop to it immediately.

Emily watched the exchange with a repulsed look, and was thankfully led away from the door by Nat.

She progressed further into the house, the noise of conversation increasing as she got further towards a large open plan area full of chattering groups, peppered with waiters holding round metal trays of champagne flutes. The room lead directly out into the mansion's extensive grounds, through open French doors. Outside in the distance she could see men wheeling enormous speakers on tilted trolleys, setting up for a band or a DJ or whatever loud thing Russ had planned.

Emily noted a group of men were already congregated around Katie, who was flirtatiously shoving one of them as she laughed her shrill, fake laugh that Emily hated. Several pairs of heavily made-up, falsely eyelashed eyes were directed at her, brimming with jealousy. Emily could just sense the whole event ending terribly, her accompanying Katie in the back of a police car, or worse, an ambulance.

'Isn't this house great?' Nat asked.

Emily looked around, her eyes flitting from slimy, lecherous, groomed men; to preened, plastic-faced, cleavagey women; to some painfully awful art on the walls; before resting gratefully on the trays of champagne.

'Brilliant,' Emily answered.

********

The sun continued its ceaseless attack on the land below it. Gradually, it drew nearly all of the guests out of the house and into its brilliant light. Emily was nowhere to be seen, and Naomi had somehow managed to impress Russ enough that he had honoured her with draping his arm around her shoulders and walking her proudly around his grounds.

'So I come down here whenever I can, you know, to get out of London, and I come out into the garden and ... think.' Russ explained to Naomi. 'I can sit here for hours just thinking about stuff. You know, the world, people. People think all footballers think about is football and tits.'

Naomi couldn't quite imagine Russ pondering the existential nature of life.

'I've got so much more freedom now I've moved clubs,' he continued, 'sold for a cool 13 million by the way,' he added, glancing sideways to see if Naomi was impressed. 'See these Naomi,' Russ said, with his fingers pointing downwards, 'Expensive legs.'

Naomi nodded. 'Impressive,' she said.

Russ seemed satisfied, 'Nothing on what they'd pay for a striker though,' he said, almost bitterly. 'Wanky little bastards think they run the bleedin' show. What people don't realise is it's the defenders that win the matches,' he ranted.

'Doesn't the amount of goals win the matches?' Naomi countered.

'Well, is it goals?' Russ asked rhetorically, 'Or _lack_ of goals?'

'... That's still the amount of goals,' Naomi answered.

Russ blinked. 'Yeah, anyway –'

'I get it,' Naomi said with a sigh, 'You're vastly undervalued and paying thirteen million for a defender like you was practically daylight robbery. Never mind the fact that your weekly salary would be enough to keep a whole Peruvian family alive for about five years; it's about justice. And it's totally unjustified that wanky little strikers get more critical acclaim for running about for ninety minutes trying desperately to kick a ball into net when there's obviously so much more skill required to _stop_ the wanky little strikers from kicking a ball into a net.'

'Exactly!' Russ said, missing out on the sarcasm spectacularly, 'Except the bit about Peru, I didn't quite catch that.'

Naomi smiled weakly, 'It wasn't important.'

She had noticed Katie's eyes on her for a while now. Every now and then she'd tear herself away from a group of adoring men to shoot her a murderous look. It was, in fact, so obvious that even Russ had noticed.

'I think that Katie girl fancies me,' he said with a grin, waving at the angry Fitch. Katie immediately flashed him an innocent smile.

'S'cuse me a sec would you Russ?' Naomi asked politely, before walking in a determined line straight towards Katie.

'Sorry gentlemen,' she used the term loosely, addressing the group of leering men, 'I wondered if I could ask you all a few questions for an article?'

There was a universal noise of interest.

'What the fuck?' Katie asked eloquently, glaring at Naomi.

'Just you let me ask the questions Katiekins,' Naomi said, retrieving her pad of paper and pen from her bag.

'Okay, first question. Boys, did you always want to be footballers?'

Everyone answered pretty much at once.

'Yeah, follow your dream innit?'

'Was the only thing I was good at.'

'Yeah, love football man.'

'I wanted to be plumber ...'

Naomi pretended to jot down their answers, 'Okay erm ...you,' she pointed at the nearest man, 'What kind of women are you interested in?'

'Why, you offering love?' he asked, which earned him a 'wahey!' from the surrounding men.

Naomi smiled sweetly at him, as if she'd taken the sleazy reply as a compliment.

'Naomi what the fuck are you doing?' Katie demanded.

'Okay Katie, since you can't wait, I've got a question for you as well,' Naomi pretended to scan the page in search of it.

'Um ... oh yes, here it is. Why can't you let your sister make her own decisions and stop being such a bitch?'

Katie froze.

'Yes! Cat fight! Love it!' came a shout from Russ somewhere in the background.

'Stay away from her you fucking lezzer bitch,' Katie warned.

'Hmm, interesting,' Naomi pretended to write it down, 'you ... fucking ... lezzer ... wait, is that lezzer with an 'a' or an 'er'? Where are you going?'

****

Naomi wandered, barefoot on the soft, warm grass, her hand clutched around the bottle of champagne she'd managed to secure for herself. She breathed in deeply, and exhaled slowly. Today had been a massive waste of her time. Not that she would have done anything constructive with it anyway. She'd given up hope of finding Emily. She hadn't seen her since she'd set foot in the house. Was she hiding from her? Or off somewhere shagging her beautiful girlfriend? Naomi shuddered at the thought of the two of them together.

She felt stupid. She should never have agreed to come here. Emily should have stayed where she was, tucked firmly away in the most carefully guarded area of her memories, not ever to be brought out again into the scrutiny of the light; because Emily's re-emergence also saw the return of that tiny voice that she had managed to ignore for so many years. And it told her, quietly at first and then more boldly, that something was missing.

Something in the distance distracted Naomi from her thoughts. She squinted at the flash of colour through the leaves of a cluster of nearby trees. She moved forwards to investigate. She was quite far away from the house now, and the only people she encountered were couples, making the most of the secluded spaces.

As she got nearer to the trees it became apparent what she had seen a glimpse of. It was a massive, towering, vivid pink and bright yellow bouncy castle. Naomi's inner child jumped gleefully at the sight of it. She even let herself smile. She wondered if Russ had got it especially for the party, or whether he was just the kind of person that just had a bouncy castle in his back garden. She suspected the latter.

Discarding her bag on the grass Naomi clambered up into the castles bouncy insides.

'Jesus fucking Christ!' came the exclamation as Naomi flung herself forwards into the castle.

Naomi, shocked at the sudden cry, whipped round to look at the small figure in the far right hand corner of the castle. Emily was sat on the wobbly floor, her knees tucked up to her chest.

'Fuck Naomi you scared the crap out of me!' Emily said.

'I scared the crap out of _you_?' Naomi asked, bobbing unsteadily, 'I'm not the one hiding in a bouncy castle and blaspheming at people!'

Emily frowned at her. '...I'm not hiding,' she said.

Naomi raised an eyebrow at her, 'What are you doing then, enjoying the view?'

'I'm ...' she searched for a reasonable explanation, '... hiding,' she consented, glumly.

Naomi bounced over to her, causing Emily to sway dangerously from side to side. 'Hiding from what?' she asked once she'd reached her. She bounced next to her, and Emily's found herself being sprung from the floor up into the air.

'From Nat ... will you quit doing that?' she demanded irritably.

'Emily, if you don't like the bounce, get out of the castle,' Naomi told her.

Emily huffed.

Naomi rolled her eyes and sat down next to her. 'So what's she done?' she asked.

'Nothing,' Emily admitted, 'I just don't fit in here, and she wants me to meet people and ... stuff.'

'... what a bitch,' Naomi said.

'Shut up. Why are you here anyway? Shouldn't you be righting society's wrongs?'

'Yeah ... Russ won't stop showing me his expensive legs and I seem to have angered the Katie creature. Figured I'd lay low for a while.'

'So ... you're hiding then?'

'No ... I'm enjoying the view.'

They sat in comfortable silence of a couple of minutes before Naomi stood up and bounced herself back to the entrance of the castle.

'Where – are you – going?' Emily asked as she was counter-bounced.

Naomi disappeared out onto the ground, before returning with the bottle of champagne she'd stolen.

****

Emily was fairly sure that more champagne had gone onto the floor of the bouncy castle that actually into her mouth. It was entirely Naomi's fault, who insisted on bouncing non-stop, regardless of whether either herself or Emily was trying to drink.

She didn't know whether it was the fact that she had been drinking without having eaten, or whether it was the fact that everything she had consumed was being joggled around incessantly in her system, but she most definitely felt rather drunk. It was her cue to leave.

'I should probably get back,' she told Naomi, who was mid-swig.

Naomi stopped bouncing, 'No,' she said, her conviction startling both of them, 'I mean, you should stay, have more to drink. Do some bouncing,' she jumped up and down to illustrate her point.

Emily smiled at her, 'You're a bad influence on me.'

'_I'm_ a bad influence? Because of you I've made no progress with my writing today.'

'Well, you'll have to take it up with your union.'

Naomi offered her the bottle, generously letting her have the final few drops.

Emily looked at her cautiously before giving in and bringing the bottle to her lips.

Naomi sprang over to her, causing Emily to completely loose her footing and land abruptly on her arse. Naomi giggled at the sight of her, almost immediately falling down herself as Emily swung at her legs, knocking them from under her.

'God, you're so _violent_!' Naomi said as she bobbed up and down slightly from the impact.

'You bring it out in me,' Emily told her, her brain buzzing happily with the joys of alcohol and compressed air.

Emily looked at Naomi. Her eyes shone a brilliantly intense blue, her pale skin was flushed with alcohol and the reflected pink of the plastic.

Suddenly the bleeping of a phone made both girls jump, and Emily fumbled around in her pocket to retrieve the offending item.

'Shit it's Katie ... what should I say?' she asked, showing Naomi the screen as if to prove it.

'Tell her to fuck off?' Naomi suggested.

'Helpful, thanks.'

'Tell her you've made it with a hot blonde and not to expect you home?'

'You wish.'

'Look just give me the phone, I'll tell her.'

'No!' Emily shouted, instantly retracting the outstretched phone as Naomi lunged for it.

'Emily,' Naomi said seriously, her struggling made more difficult by the unsteady nature of the surface she was on, 'Give ... me ... the ... phone ...'

'No!' Emily yelped, trying to get up and bounce away, but found herself pinned down by Naomi. Distracted by the feeling of the warm body pushed up against her, Emily let her guard down long enough for Naomi to grapple the phone out of her hand.

Victorious, Naomi managed to thumb the answer button and brought the phone to her ear, 'Katie! So good to hear from you-'

Naomi was tackled instantly, a flurry of arms and legs all pushing her down until her back hit the springy plastic floor. Using the majority of her body weight to keep the girl down, Emily managed to roughly snatch the phone from her grasp and fling it to the far corner of the castle.

Naomi heard it land, but her eyes were firmly locked to the gaze of the deep brown ones above her. Emily's hands still held her down, and she could feel her heart beat, pumping quick from the sudden explosion of exertion they had both just put themselves through.

Before Emily had time to extract herself from the compromising position, and before Naomi had time to think any better of it, she leaned up, capturing Emily's lips suddenly, fleetingly; barely a split second of softness and then it was gone. The movement had been so swift and so unexpected that Emily hadn't had time to react. But she felt the lingering sensation on her lips as Naomi continued to stare at her, waiting for a cue to continue or stop.

The banished phone bleeped again, snapping Emily out of the moment and she hastily extricated herself from Naomi and rushed over to it. Naomi screwed her eyes closed and forcefully slammed her head back against the floor, barely believing her own actions.

'Yeah, okay. I'll be there in like two minutes,' she heard Emily say.

Naomi sat up.

'The band's about to start,' was all Emily said.

'Oh.'

Emily walked carefully but quickly to the end of the castle, hopping out gracefully, leaving Naomi alone in the pink monstrosity, feeling very small and very stupid.

A few seconds later Emily's head popped back into view, 'Aren't you coming?'

Naomi immediately stood and followed her out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Friendly greetings to all :)**

**Once again, I present you with a few of points about this chapter:**

**1.) the band is made up. If the name happens to be the same as the name of a band you like, I mean no offence, and it is a total coincidence.**

**2.) this chapter includes shameless use of metaphorical weather. I apologise.**

**3.) I really hope you like it**

**Thanks in anticipation for reading and reviewing :)**

* * *

Okay, what the fuck had just happened? Emily marched forwards quickly, striding back to the house, her mind replaying the last few seconds of her life over and over again. Had she really just let Naomi _kiss her_? She couldn't have. That wasn't her. That was the emotional seventeen- year-old that had re-surfaced from beneath a sea of champagne and gained momentary control of her faculties. Wasn't it?

Trailing behind her somewhat, Naomi was thinking the exact same thing. It was an accidental by-product generated by bubbly alcohol and excessive bouncing. An anomaly, if you will, brought about by suddenly finding herself millimetres from Emily's face in a setting that sparked a myriad of adolescent feelings. Stupid bouncy piece of crap.

She was grateful, on some level at least, that Emily seemed to have chosen to ignore her momentary lapse of judgement. After all, she certainly wasn't enthralled with the idea of Emily recoiling from her and retreating back into the safety of the company of Katie, and that _girl. _For a start, she and Emily seemed to have struck up a quiet resistance to the majority of the guest list: a revolutionary twosome united in silent protest against the whole party. She most definitely didn't want to find herself stuck on her own amongst these people. Emily was the only person she could cling to. And she guessed, rather accurately, that Emily felt much the same way.

Emily marched independently onwards, Naomi lagging several paces behind. T he distant buzz of activity became louder as they progressed further into civilisation. Naomi felt her already slow pace decreasing. 'Emily! Slow down will you? It's not like we're going to miss anything.'

The girl ahead of her, predictably, didn't slow down at all. Naomi, instead, found herself speeding up to catch up with her. 'Jesus Christ Ems, how do get so much horse power out of those tiny little legs?' she wondered out-loud as she finally caught up.

The rest of the party came into view, crowded around a small stage that must have been erected in their absence. Naomi glanced around, looking to see if there was any clue as to who would be playing. She didn't like to brag about it, but she considered herself a connoisseur of good music, and if they were anyone decent, she would no doubt already have acquired their music from an illegal file-sharing site by now. Emily watched her knowingly. What Naomi viewed as merely 'having a selective taste' Emily saw as musical fascism. She remembered having to hide the more embarrassing elements of her music collection stealthily under her bed when Naomi used to over.

'What?' Naomi asked, catching Emily staring at her.

'Naomi!' a male voice cut through the moment.

Naomi scrunched up her face as she realised who was approaching.

'Where've you been, love?' asked Russ, immediately securing his arm back around her shoulders.

'We found your bouncy castle,' Naomi told him.

'Oh yeah! Love it!' Russ said excitedly, 'I like to pretend I'm some kind of ... bouncy king,' he explained.

Naomi looked at him quizzically.

'Would you like to be my bouncy queen?' he asked her, with a serious face. Naomi was sure that had sounded romantic in his head. She heard Emily snicker.

'Mmm ... I'll have to get back to you,' she told him.

Russ seemed to accept the answer.

'So who's going to be playing?' Naomi asked, prompting Russ to look up from her chest.

'Oh ... um,' he frowned, 'I dunno,' he admitted, 'Nat arranged it. Probably some skinny little wankers singing about how no one will give them a blowjob,' he speculated.

'Because that's what all modern music comprises of,' Naomi said sarcastically.

'Exactly,' Russ said, squeezing her shoulders, 'Me and you Naomi, we're on the same wavelength.'

Emily nudged her playfully, 'I think your wavelength just dropped several frequencies,' she whispered.

Naomi looked back at her. Correct me if I'm wrong, her brain mused, but I do believe she's flirting with you. She could barely contain the smile that crept over her features.

Russ's assumption seemed correct though, as a skinny boy in skin-tight drainpipe red jeans and geekily oversized glasses appeared on stage, followed closely by his almost identically clothed band mates. He grabbed the microphone to say: 'Hi, we're 'The Bullseye Five' and we're here to wish Russ Irvins a very happy birthday.'

'Irvins?' Russ roared in disbelief, 'It's EVANS, you tit!'

Naomi tried not to smirk as Russ looked at her, pointing an incredulous finger at the boy on stage. 'Can you believe that? No one would pay thirteen million for Russ _Irivins_, whoever he is.'

Naomi shrugged.

Russ stormed off, no doubt to find someone slightly more receptive to complain to.

Naomi sighed. She had heard the band before, and had found them dull, repetitive and of that genre of bands that think playing something louder will somehow magically interject some sort of life into the music. 'These guys are shit,' she said to Emily, who immediately looked guilty.

Naomi rolled her eyes, 'You fucking like them don't you?'

'I ... don't _dislike_ them,' she said.

Naomi shoved her fondly, 'Typical,' she said with a smile.

'Shut up,' Emily said, 'I'll listen to whatever I like.'

Naomi consented, 'I know. And don't think I didn't see you shoving those Abba cds under your bed Ems.'

Emily's eyes widened. Four years of not speaking and _that's_ what she chooses to remember?

'They were Katie's,' she lied.

'Of course they were.'

'Fuck off.'

'It's okay Emily. I mean really, I should thank you for the music.'

'Fuck_ off_!'

'Alright! No need to be such a dancing queen.'

'Naomi, I'm serious.'

'What? Oh come on Ems, just take a chance on me.'

'You're such a dick.'

Naomi was amusing herself far too much to notice the woman that was approaching Emily. She was just mentally preparing another Abba-orientated taunt when Nat came into view, kissing Emily on the cheek and greeting Naomi with a cheerful smile. Emily's gaze immediately dropped guiltily to the ground.

Naomi watched as Nat's slender arm snaked around Emily. Her stomach clenched. Well, you shouldn't have kissed her, her brain told her, unsympathetically.

The band started, and Naomi numbly turned her attention to them.

****

Emily hadn't made eye contact with Naomi since Nat's re-appearance. It didn't hurt to let Naomi think it was because of the guilt of kissing another girl when her actual girlfriend was at the same party. In fact, it was better that she thought that. Because it stopped her from having to explain what the actual problem was.

It wasn't that she felt she'd betrayed Nat. As far as Emily was concerned Nat wasn't even her girlfriend, despite Katie's efforts to convince her that that was what she wanted. She felt guilty because she'd betrayed herself. She'd let Naomi effortlessly inveigle her way back into her life, messing up her carefully ordered mind in that way that only _she_ could. _Kissing_ her and then thinking nothing of it. She wondered, bitterly, if this was how Sophia had felt: Helpless in her devotion to Naomi, in the face of everything she knew telling her it was wrong.

Naomi, of course, not being privy to this information, immediately sprung to the rather simpler conclusion that Emily was feeling remorseful over that whisper of a kiss they'd shared. She'd already come to terms with the fact that it was pretty much the most stupid and insensitive thing she could've done to Emily, short of slapping her round the face and then stealing her wallet; but it didn't stop her from picturing Emily's flushed face just after the kiss, her eyes shining at her in a way that Naomi had never thought she would see again, and how that had made her feel like the most important person in the world.

The band droned on, and Nat continued to fondle Emily in a way that made Naomi feel very uncomfortable. As the music finally drew to an anticlimactic close, the warm afternoon air developed a chill. The early evening was soon to approach, and Naomi desperately wished that the whole process would just hurry the fuck up.

Without a word to Emily or Nat, who seemed otherwise engaged anyway ... shudder ... Naomi meandered away from them through the crowd. The girls at this party were unbelievable. And not in a good way. Though it was impressive, in a way: how they had painstakingly crafted their faces to etch away any kind of individuality; how they had endured hours of surgery to augment their chests (some more successfully than others); how they had managed to select outfits that had the most amount of flesh possible on display, short of turning up in their knickers; and how they honestly believed, that by securing one of these footballing testosterone machines, they would see an end to all their hardships, insecurities and misery.

She continued on her wander, occasionally jotting things down in her notepad, until she reached a secluded area of the grounds she hadn't been in before. She was even further away from the house than the site of the bouncy castle, and, half dreading the long walk back in the hot weather, she sat down glumly on the grass. The day was exhausting her and the air was sticky and humid. She welcomed the dimming of the light in the sky as the evening finally began to settle overhead.

She didn't need to look up to see who it was when she felt someone sit down next to her.

'Why did you kiss me?' the question hung heavily in the air. Naomi felt distinctly crowded by its presence. She swallowed audibly, before looking up at Emily's expectant face.

'I was just ... a bit drunk,' she said. 'And you _were_ topping me,' she added, flashing Emily a grin, which she didn't return.

'That's just great, Naomi,' Emily said, standing up promptly and glaring down at the seated girl. 'You felt a bit drunk and I was just, what? Convenient? I can't believe you think that you can just waltz back into my life like this!'

'What? You invited _me.'_

'I know, and what a huge fucking mistake that was.'

Naomi felt a stinging silence creep over her. Her throat closed up painfully.

'I'm sorry,' she said, once she'd managed to gain enough control over her voice to stop it from wobbling with the proximity of tears.

Emily sighed, annoyed at herself. She had tried to keep silent about the kiss, tried to not make it a big deal. But it was a _huge _deal. Keeping it to herself was just not an option. Wordlessly she sat back down.

Naomi glanced over at her. She was staring into a nearby tree, her eyes glazed, her face tinged with a sadness that reminded Naomi of the last few heart-wrenching days of their relationship. The days that made her realise with alarming clarity that she had to leave before Emily became irreparably broken.

Naomi nudged her softly. 'I know I'm a twat Em,' she said quietly, 'but seeing you again has been so ...' she left a space for a word of Emily's choosing. 'I don't want to lose that.'

Emily's face softened, 'You _are _a twat,' she responded, with a tiny smile.

It was then that they felt it.

The first few sporadic drops of moisture.

A drop hit Emily on the nose, and she looked up to the sky, noticing that it had become filled with thick grey clouds.

Naomi followed her gaze upwards.

'Emily,' she said, noticing the deep bruising shade of the clouds, 'I think you've angered the gods.'

Emily frowned at her, 'What? It's just a spot of rain.'

Naomi shook her head, 'Nope, unless by spot you mean monsoon. That's a huge fuck off storm.'

Naomi should have known then that it was a fucking sign. Rain is ominous on a whole biblical kind of scale.

'Since when did you become a meteorologist?' Emily asked, bemused.

'Since my bloody mother took me camping in Cornwall every summer holiday and I knew when to get the hell inside the tent. Fucking cheapskate,' she muttered.

Emily found herself having to grudgingly accept that Naomi was right, as the drops of rain became much larger and far more frequent. She stood up and clasped her own upper arms in a feeble attempt to protect herself from the weather. Naomi stood up as well, frowning at the increasing precipitation as it started the infuriating process of sticking her hair to her head. Tugging it back from her eyes started back in the direction of the house.

The dark clouds were masking the final dying rays of the setting sun, casting an eerily blue hue on the green garden.

'Why did you have to go so bloody far from the house?' Emily demanded of Naomi as the rain quickly upped its game from heavy to torrential.

'You didn't have to follow me,' Naomi snapped back, squinting through the wet at the angry hunched figure beside her.

Suddenly, she noticed Emily had broken into a run.

Naomi rolled her eyes. She felt like she'd spent the whole day following in the tracks of the annoyingly speedy Fitch.

She sighed and began to run after her, 'Fuck's sake Em, you're already as wet as you're going to get!' she called, 'What's the point in running?'

Emily ran on, regardless of Naomi's logic, following the sequence of spaces, opening and constricting through layers of manufactured nature, until she realised she was in a part of the grounds that she didn't recognise. She stopped abruptly, causing Naomi to skid in the sodden grass to avoid crashing into her.

'What are you doing?' Naomi asked, regaining her balance and wiping the rain from her eyes. She felt herself shouting over the noise of the rain.

'I've gone the wrong way,' Emily explained, looking around at the unfamiliar trees.

A creeping grin of realisation grew on Naomi's face, 'You mean ... you've got lost in a garden?'

'_No_,' Emily said defensively, '... maybe. And it's a really big garden. It's practically a park.'

Naomi's grin grew wider.

'Shut up, you followed me,' Emily said, testily.

'True, but I'm not lost.'

'You know where we are?'

'Em, it's a fucking garden. It's not that difficult.'

'Fine, which way is the house then.'

'Which way do you think it is?'

'Naomi, stop being a wanker, I'm fucking soaking.'

'Well, you should probably be a bit nicer to me then.'

Emily huffed, folding her arms.

The rain, thoughtfully, eased slightly, as if allowing for the debate.

'Come on, take a guess,' Naomi suggested.

'Fine,' Emily sighed, looking around, 'Is it that way?' she pointed.

Naomi laughed, 'Wow ... that's an impressive amount of wrong. _Jesus Christ_ Em, your sense of direction is awful!'

'Fine then!' Emily shouted back angrily, 'Let's just stand out in the fucking rain until you grow up!'

'Don't get bitchy at me, just because you got lost in a _garden_.'

Emily tried to continue to look furious, but her smile won over and she ended up laughing instead. She pushed Naomi, her wet hand making a gentle slapping sound against the wet skin of the other girl's arm.

Naomi pushed her back, and the two girls found themselves laughing hysterically at their situation.

The rain however, clearly bored by their antics, decided to get back to what it had started. It quickly became so heavy that it was almost painful as it hit the girls' skin.

A flash of lightening illuminated the area of garden for a split second, and Naomi and Emily exchanged a look of trepidation.

A slow, achingly drawn out growl of thunder followed. It felt like it was making the trees tremble, and Naomi felt the air around her vibrate from the force.

'Fucking hell!'

Emily looked over towards her, amused. 'Bit scared there weathergirl?' she asked.

'... no.'

''cause ... you looked a bit scared.'

'Well ... I'm not.'

A second angry snarl of thunder resonated from the sky, and Naomi's nervous eyes flitted about the suddenly hostile landscape.

'Em?' she said, 'I think I'm ready to tell you the way back to house now.'

The way Emily looked at Naomi in that moment, was very unwise. Her eyes were full of amusement, her face lingering on the verge of a smile, regarding Naomi fondly ... no ... _tenderly_, as if she was adorable, as if all she wanted to do was reach out and touch her.

Naomi swallowed. That was too much. The adoration in Emily's face, the way the rain made her clothes cling to her slender body, the way delicate bumps on her skin had risen from the cold, the way water droplets trailed softly down her face, the way she was stood so excruciatingly close to her, the warmth radiating from her body through the cold rain, and the way Naomi realised, in that instant, that Emily was fighting hopelessly to not be entirely under her command.

Emily, at the same time, realised the exact same thing. She felt a strange familiarity as she felt herself buckle under the pull of the awesome power Naomi wielded over her. And when Naomi reached for her desperately through the rain, she did nothing to stop her, submitting entirely to the girl that crashed their lips together, her hands running tirelessly over her soaking body, her mouth hot and wet against her cold skin, as the rain beat down around them, and the storm raged on.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello :)**

**Sorry I haven't updated for a little while. Things have been a tad hectic. But, I've managed to squeeze a lil update into my schedule, so hopefully that's a good thing.**

**Once again, a few notes to accompany the chapter:**

**1.) Naomi has been doing all of the chasing up until this point and i was concerned this was making Emily seem a little bit weak. Because we all know, she's definitely not. **

**2.) Emily wouldn't really let Naomi just have her way now, would she? **

**3.) Thanks for all the reviews and favourites and subscriptions. They're so very encouraging. Keep them up please? You guys are awesome. **

**Have a nice day**

* * *

Naomi's mind was on the verge of imploding. Emily was overloading all of her senses. The taste of Emily was so overwhelming, her soft lips nipping gently at Naomi's before becoming bolder, more aggressive as she allowed Naomi to slide her tongue past her own into her mouth. Naomi tasted her frantically, her passion making her clumsily tug at Emily's lower lip, hearing the girl groan as she gently bit down. She couldn't pin-point the moment when she stopped feeling the rain. It was as if the intensity of the kiss had siphoned off everything else. She felt Emily's hand reach for her head, slipping round to tangle in her hair, pulling her face closer towards her, kissing her relentlessly. Her own hands ran from Emily's waist to her shoulders, clutching at their delicate shape, holding her there in front of her, before running them back down her sides. She felt Emily tremble beneath her hands, reassured that she felt just as overwhelmed, just as alight.

Several times Emily's mind had demanded of her: 'what are you _doing_?!' and each time Emily had sternly silenced it. She clung to Naomi desperately, kissing her fiercely, her fists clenching in Naomi's hair. Naomi moaned softly into Emily's mouth as she felt the grip in her hair tighten. It was too much: the explosion of electric energy in her stomach, the lust-filled desperation, the way her very being throbbed at Naomi's touch. 'What are you _doing_?!' her brain asked one last time. And Emily stilled, unable give a justified answer.

Naomi felt Emily's lips withdraw from her, but kept her eyes closed a fraction longer, partly in anticipation of Emily's return, partly because she couldn't organise her thoughts enough to operate her eyelids. Slowly, Emily's hands slid from her shoulders, and Naomi opened her eyes.

Emily stood in front of her, her finger tips softly touching her own lips, her eyes wide, their gaze fixed on Naomi's mouth. Naomi ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Emily took in a deep ragged breath.

A bolt of lightning shook Naomi's realisation back to the fact it was still raining, and they were still stood out in it. Wordlessly, she turned from Emily and started to walk back in the direction of the house. She didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted to get out of the sodding rain. A harsh, mocking clap of thunder shook the sky. Naomi tried not to visibly wince, but her pace quickened.

For the first time that day, Emily let Naomi lead the way. She had only gone wrong by a few meters, veering in the wrong direction enough to utterly confuse her. She wiped her hair from her eyes and chewed her bottom lip. How could she have let this happen? She was older, wiser, stronger, more self-aware and independent and yet had crumbled at Naomi Campbell's touch just as readily her younger self. Did she really have that little self control? Did she really value herself that little?

They arrived back at the house to find the majority of the guest list crowded into the main open-plan living room. The windows had steamed up from their pointless breath, and Naomi just wanted to be as far away from all of them as possible.

Most pairs of eyes turned to look at the two bedraggled girls that squelched into the room, hair wet and straggled, make-up running down their faces, clothes reaching an indecent level of see-through.

'Emily?' asked a concerned voice.

Naomi did nothing to disguise her eye roll as Nat rushed up to the soaking Fitch.

'Where have you been? What happened?'

'Outside,' Emily answered absently, 'It rained.'

'I know it did hun.'

Naomi flinched at the pet-name.

'Come on, you must be freezing, let's get you dry.' Nat shot a look at Naomi as if it was her fault. Technically, it was, but it was rude of her to assume. 'You too,' she added, guiding Emily by the shoulders out of the room.

Katie managed to catch Naomi's eye as she followed Emily out of the room. Katie's lips curved into a smirk as she took in the state of her.

'Like what you see darlin'?' Naomi shot at her, with a wink.

Katie's smile immediately disappeared and she turned her attention back to the crowd of men she was currently entertaining.

****

Nat had pointed out towels, shower-knobs and hair-products, asked Emily if she wanted any help, and, receiving an answer to the negative, had left. Emily sat down on the side of the bath. Naomi looked around for another available seat, sighed and sat down on the toilet. Emily looked at her perched on the porcelain bowel, smirked for a second, and then remembered what had just happened and all amusement left her face.

Naomi looked around, desperately wishing she'd stayed out alone in the rain.

'Nice bathroom,' she said eventually.

'Yeah,' Emily agreed, barely listening.

'I like the paintings,' Naomi continued, trying to avoid the ringing silence that threatened to engulf the room.

'Yeah,' Emily agreed again, flatly.

'Except that one,' Naomi continued. 'Still life? Talk about boring. Who'd want a picture of apples in a bowl?'

Emily looked in the direction of the painting. She sniggered softly. 'Naomi, I don't think those are apples.'

Naomi squinted at the painting, 'What else could they possibly ... oh,' she realised, 'boobs. Lovely.'

She noticed Emily was shivering.

'Jesus Christ Em,' she muttered standing up and walking over to the small girl, 'Get in the fucking shower.'

Emily looked up at Naomi, her eyes wide like those of a startled animal.

'What?' Naomi asked reflexively. 'Oh for fuck's sake Em, relax! I'm not going to get in the sodding shower with you just because we got all gropey in the rain. Jesus, you're so presumptuous,' Naomi tried to joke.

Emily blinked in response.

Perhaps mention of the groping was not the most tactful of approaches.

Emily seemed to withdraw into herself. Perched on the side of the bath she looked to fucking tiny, so insecure and fragile, so heart-breakingly helpless.

Naomi sighed as she felt the familiar pang of guilt. She was so very good at hurting Emily, she wondered why she didn't just get her degree in that: Naomi Campbell BA Hons Unintentional girlfriend grief.

She sat down next to Emily and nudged her softly. 'Come on Ems, you'll feel better once you've had a shower. Plus, you'll smell less, and that's something we'd all be grateful for.'

Emily allowed herself a smile, 'Cheeky cow,' she said, nudging Naomi back.

Naomi inwardly congratulated herself for the positive reaction. 'Good, so it's settled. You'll wash.' She stood up and squelched to the door. Her hand made contact with the cool metal of the door handle. Her arm was bracing itself to pull the door open towards her. She was so close to getting out, so close to being free and walking away until –

'Where are you going.'

It wasn't really a question. It wasn't really anything. It was just four words. Four words expertly formed to make Naomi turn right back around and return to the smaller girl's side.

'I'm leaving you to shower,' Naomi said, telling herself more than Emily.

'Don't go.'

Naomi bit her lip. 'Ems, I'm not sure you're familiar with the process of showering. It's usually done naked. That means no clothes. That means you in no clothes,' Naomi paused, trying to move on from that point. 'That means I should most definitely not be present.'

Emily merely looked at her. The quiet, shrunken Emily that was perched on the bath a few seconds ago had completely vanished, replaced with a distinctly more vibrant, confident and, quite frankly, annoyed incarnation of the Fitch.

'No clothes,' Naomi repeated in a small voice.

She could swear a sparkle of amusement flickered across Emily's serious face. Naomi narrowed her eyes.

'Naomi,' the newly confident Emily said seriously, 'You may think you can just bounce around plying me with champagne and kiss me, then get me lost in a storm and kiss me, and then just fucking _leave._'

'Technically, _you_ got lost-' Naomi began, but Emily held up her hand to silence her.

'Well tough. You can't. You're not getting off that easy. You're going to stay right _fucking_ there. And we're going to fucking talk about this.'

Naomi rolled her eyes, '_Fine_,' she huffed, 'But I don't see why I have to stay here why you shower.'

'Because the second you get out of that door you'll fucking leave,' Emily told her sternly, 'I know you Naomi. I _still_ know you. You leave. And this time I'm not letting you.'

Naomi sat down heavily on the toilet, sulkily crossing her legs and arms. '... bitch,' she muttered.

Emily smiled to herself. She began to pull her soaking top from her wet body.

Naomi's eyes widened and she immediately whipped round to face away from the stripping girl.

'Emily!' She chastised, staring intently at the wall. She heard the material drop heavily to the floor. She closed her eyes, willing herself to continue facing the opposite direction.

She heard more shuffling, and a pair of tights landed soggily beside her.

'Okay those are your tights. Which means you're ...' she couldn't bring herself to say it, 'and that's _fine_. We're all friends here. It's just boobs. Everyone's got them. Well, not everyone. Most men haven't. Well some men do but they're often less than appealing.'

'Naomi? Shut up,' Emily requested sweetly.

She heard the squeaking of wet feet on porcelain and the metallic scraping of curtain rings on a rail before the sound of water began. She thankfully turned round, knowing Emily was safely behind a curtain. She struggled to not let her eyes linger on the flickering silhouette that ran its hands over its body behind the privacy of that thin, flimsy curtain.

She stood up and walked over to the small window in the bathroom. It looked back over the fateful grounds that had caused this whole situation. Naomi knew she deserved this punishment: Imprisonment in a luxurious bathroom with a naked and infuriatingly stubborn girl. There were, of course, worse places to be imprisoned, Naomi mused, smiling to herself.

She leaned her head against the window and watched the rivulets of water trickle down the pane, lead by indecisive beads that flickered one way and then another, criss-crossing the glass in a beautiful, shaky pattern before terminating their journey in a dirty puddle on the window ledge. The ground was taking a hammering, the earth beneath the grass churning, the flowers unable to lift their heavy heads under the unrelenting downpour.

Naomi sighed. Everything will look so clean after the storm.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello friendly people. I apologise for my slow updating. I have rather a lot of exams and other methods of standardised testing looming, and whilst this is one of my preferred methods of procrastination, I should probably begin to start thinking about getting down to some serious work. So updates will be rather sparse until that's all over and I manage to clamber out of the seventh circle of hell. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll try to get more done as soon as I can. In the meantime, continue to be awesome.**

**As a side note, does anyone use myspace for music any more? I'm trying to set up a music one, but I'm not sure if it's worth it. Is there some new way of inflicting music on innocent web-trawlers? I consider myself rather far out of the loop when it comes to technology. I can operate a microwave though, which I think is pretty impressive. Any feedback regarding this would be appreciated. If you have no information, don't worry, just sit back and enjoy the chapter :)**

**Have a nice day**

* * *

It wasn't until Emily had washed the shampoo suds from her hair that realisation began to tug at her consciousness. She had been so absorbed in her irritation at Naomi, and then so distracted by the warm pattering of the shower on her skin, that somehow it had completely slipped her mind that at some point she was going to have to get out of the shower in front of Naomi. She stilled her movements for a moment, her eyes darting about the confined space of shower, desperate to rest on her salvation. Sadly, the shower offered nothing of the sort, unless she felt inclined to cover her modesty with a small, yellow rubber duck. She rolled her eyes.

Quietly and ever so delicately, she pulled back the tiniest pleat of curtain to assess the situation in the bathroom. She saw Naomi, posed languidly at the window, her elbow resting on the sill, her hand softly running through her hair, her gaze fixed on the scene outside. She looked alarmingly contemplative. It immediately worried Emily, who then spied the towels stored neatly on a rack right next to Naomi, and about as far away from Emily as they could get in the small room. She sighed quietly, as she let the curtain fall back into place.

She let herself enjoy about five more minutes of gloriously warm water before she turned the dial and the flow stopped. She clenched her jaw and shut her eyes briefly in exasperation at herself before almost whispering '... Naomi?'

Her quiet plea was met with silence.

'Naomi?' she said, a little louder.

Silence echoed and bounced off the bathroom walls.

She's gone, her brain told her. She's bloody gone. Upped and fucking left you, again, it taunted cruelly. 'Naomi!' she shouted, angry at one of two things. Either that she had been ditched or that she was being ignored. She found both utterly typical of Naomi.

'You can shout all you like Ems,' the cocky voice pervaded through the steam, 'I'm not getting in that shower with you.'

Emily let out an exasperated noise, 'Do you really think that's why I was calling you?' she asked, pulling back a portion of the curtain and sticking her head out into the bathroom.

She was greeted with the sight of Naomi, a towel in her hand and a smug grin on her face, 'No, I thought you were calling because you wanted one of these.' She waved the towel in her direction.

'Yeah ... well,' Emily said, feeling increasingly stupid, 'Give it then.'

Naomi's grin merely grew wider, 'Make me.'

'Naomi ...' Emily warned.

'Yes Emily?' she asked earnestly.

'Give me the fucking towel.'

'Oh okay,' she frowned, 'Wait ... what do I mean? ... No.'

'Naomi, give me the towel or I'll –'

'What? Drip on me? Hide ferociously behind a curtain at me?'

Emily rolled her eyes. Somehow she'd ended up in yet another situation in which Naomi seemed to be wielding all the control. It had happened countless times today, not to mention all the times it had happened in college. It was almost farcical, really, especially given the fact that a few moments ago she had felt entirely in command, hoping to render Naomi powerless with her own demonstration of taking charge. But once again it had just backfired. And once again Emily had found herself weakened, stripped of her rank and, rather unfortunately, completely naked.

Naomi didn't really know what she was doing. She didn't actually wish to entice Emily out of the shower and towards her. The fact that she let her gaze linger on the feminine shape that was hazily silhouetted behind the shower curtain was irrelevant. A naked Emily would only lead to even more confused groping that no doubt Emily would want to talk about. And Naomi didn't have the strength to discuss all of that right now.

She flung the towel in Emily's direction and returned to gazing out of the window. She deliberately didn't look when Emily shimmied herself awkwardly down the inside of the shower curtain to reach the towel that had landed on the floor, making a conscious effort not to brandish her nudity in Naomi's direction. Emily felt grateful and offended all at once. She felt enveloped in the feeling of the bitter-sweet confusion that it was to have Naomi Campbell back in her life; the way she made her feel hugely important and entirely insignificant in one breath. She stepped out of the shower into Naomi's domain.

The taller blonde girl turned to look at her. Emily had wrapped herself in the towel and was hugging it tightly to her chest, as if it was some sort of defence. She looked small and uncertain. Naomi noticed the way her toes curled and clenched against the soft carpet of the bathroom; it was as if every iota of Emily's being was self-conscious.

Naomi herself was still completely soaking. But her clothes had reached such an advanced level of adhesion to her skin that the thought of taking them off was just as unappealing as the thought of continuing to wear them.

And so the girls faced each other: both silent, uncomfortable, soaking, and both waiting for the other to speak first.

'Well?' Naomi spoke first.

Emily said nothing, but her toes curled underneath her feet in response.

'Emily?' Naomi prompted, 'I'm still here,' she said simply.

'Thank you,' Emily said softly.

Emily swallowed. All conviction she'd had when she'd stepped into the shower had left her, fleeting through an open window like a soul escaping at the point of death.

Naomi sighed.

'I don't know what to tell you Em,' she said softly, realising she would have to take charge of the conversation. 'I know I've done things to you ... to myself ... that make it really hard for us to be friends.'

Emily's gaze dropped to her feet.

'But I know I miss you.' Naomi's gaze dropped to the floor as well, unable to look at Emily any longer, 'Even now, I still miss you. And I guess I didn't realise that was still true. But it is. And I can't help it.'

Naomi dared to glance back up to Emily. Her face was unreadable, but her tense body had relaxed slightly. Maybe that was all she needed to hear right now, thought Naomi. Maybe she just needed to know that she was missed. Maybe that had been all she needed to know four years ago. But maybe now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

Eventually Emily looked back up at her, and smiled a slight, sad, lop-sided smile.

'Naomi,' she began, 'I think ...' she stopped herself. 'I think you should get in the shower.'

Naomi's expectant face dropped its eyebrows, and reverted into apathetic mode.

'Okay ... are we going to talk about this more?'

Emily shook her head.

'Will you wait for me?'

The question resounded heavily in the steamy air. Emily shook her head again.

Naomi nodded in consent. What more could she do but ask, and accept the answer.

Emily gathered up her clothes and opened the bathroom door to search for an unoccupied room in which to change. The door clicked shut and she padded softly down the corridor.

I've always been waiting for you, Naomi, she let her mind answer finally.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello lovely people :)**

**Thankyou for your encouraging reviews, and I wish you the best of health and happiness. I'm taking a swift break from the shores of revision land to bring you an update. Whether that's wise, only time will tell. Anyway, onwards with the story ... and a few accompanying notes:**

**1.) This chapter needed to happen to help the story progress. We all know Naomi's a bit of a wordsmith, and can give a good public speech when the occasion calls for it. **

**2.) As you may have guessed, I'm not a writer, but according to this story, Naomi is. So let's just pretend she wrote something better than what I came up with, okay? *secret handshake***

**3.) read, relax, enjoy, and have a nice day**

**also, thankyou to harrooroo ... I've borrowed one of your favourite phrases ...**

* * *

Naomi shifted over to her side. Noisily and irritably she flung the covers from her body, before huffily scrabbling them back and tugging them up to her chin. She flipped over to her other side, tucking her knees up under her and twitching her feet. She then returned to lying on her back, opened her eyes and sighed heavily, eventually resigning to the fact that she was going to be up for a while.

She reached out from the cocoon of bed sheets she had entangled herself in and turned on her lamp. She checked the phone that lay at her bedside. It told her nothing but the time.

She wondered if Emily was still there: at that house, in the arms of that girl. She had left bare minutes after Emily had left the bathroom, swiftly dialling for a taxi to lead her away from that strange house and all the events that had unfolded within and around it. As the security gates closed behind her, she had felt instantly guilty. But she said nothing, and the driver continued to drive, and she continued to sit there, her sodden clothes making a wet patch on the upholstery.

In one smooth move Naomi flipped the covers from her and sat up. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep she felt and tasted rain. She stood up and padded over to the damp pile of clothes she had extricated herself from the second she had entered the sanctity of her room. Buried beneath them was her bag. She fumbled through it for a while before extracting her writing pad. It seemed that about half of it had survived the downpour. She took it over to her desk, sat down, and began to write.

****

Emily tapped irritably on the mouse of the library computer. According to Katie, she'd 'had her knickers in a twist' ever since they had left the party yesterday. Another one of Katie's pearls of wisdom was to 'forget that fucking Campbell bitch. She's a stupid cow and she's not worth it. In fact Emily,' she had continued, 'if I see you with her again, I'll personally punch her right in the ovaries, because you can do _so much better. _And for fuck's sake ring Nat and tell her you had a good time and that you want to see her again. Oo, and ask if Russ said anything about me.'

Emily had told her, in no uncertain terms, to mind her own business.

She sighed heavily and gazed blankly into space. Her mind drifted dreamily back outside, back into the rain, before she harshly scolded herself and tried to return to her work.

'Emily,' a soft voice caught her attention, and she looked up from the screen.

Naomi Campbell looked very sheepish.

And well she might, thought Emily, who immediately folded her arms and said 'How did you get in?'

'My awesome skills of negotiation,' Naomi said, risking a cheeky smirk.

Emily didn't falter. 'Look, you're not even a card-holder at this library anymore, so I doubt there's anything I can help you with.'

'That's what I love about you Fitches,' Naomi said as she reached into her shoulder bag, 'You're always so willing to help.'

Despite herself, Emily was interested in whatever Naomi was rifling around for.

Eventually, the girl extracted two sheets of crumpled paper, covered in scrawled writing and scribbles. She presented them proudly on the counter.

Emily looked at Naomi, then down and the papers, and then back up. 'And this would be?'

'My article,' Naomi said, as if it was glaringly obvious.

'I see.'

'Could you proof read it for me?'

'Me?'

'Yes dear, you.'

'But I'm-'

'Clearly the proud recipient of an English degree.'

'How did you-'

'Oh come on Ems, you're a librarian. Everyone knows that with an English degree you either become a lecturer, a writer, a librarian or a furniture tester.'

'Oh thanks.'

'Please?'

Emily sighed, and grudgingly picked up the dog-eared paper from the desk. She squinted at it. 'Did you by any chance write this drunk? Or possibly dictate it to a five year old?'

Naomi frowned, 'I wrote it late at night,'

'With your feet?'

'Look if you're going to be like that –' Naomi huffily made to snatch the paper back, but Emily moved it out of the way in time.

'Hey! I'm going to read it. You can have it back tomorrow.'

****

Emily had managed to resist reading the article all day. But she had felt its presence, heavy with words that she longed to read. She felt it mouthing them at her from within the confines of her bag. When she was finally home, and when she was sure Katie was not, she eventually stretched out onto her bed and settled down to begin to decipher Naomi's hand-written scrawl:

......

_"The party laid bare the unpleasant truths. And there are so many._

_I suppose I have to start with the women. Everything always starts with a woman - everything bad at least, if you believe the stories._

_So this time, who are the women of the story? Tragic heroines? Manipulative femme-fatales? Alabaster-skinned puritan virgins?_

_Well, no not really. In fact, taken purely at face value, they are women who don't particularly warrant literary coverage of any kind. Perhaps that would be true, if it weren't for the nationwide phenomenon that has become known as the WAG. And perhaps it would continue to be true, if it wasn't shaping into the most profoundly tragic love-story of the new century._

_The modern media can seem obsessed with the instant and the glib, and these women are no exception. They are instantaneous, cooked-to-perfection, 'just-add-water' girlfriend material. What self-respecting man wouldn't be proud to have one of these beauties on his arm? And there it is: the simple aspiration to cling to a strong bicep. Let's indulge the feminist perception of it all for a moment. It worries me, that at this advanced stage in the cycle of human life on this planet, and after a long and arduous trail of those who have burnt their bras, chained themselves to fences and left ash at the base of charred stakes, there are still women who feel the need to define themselves through their husbands. _

_But it's more than that. The women seemed two-dimensional. And here I don't just mean shiny, plastic and vacant. I mean they seemed genuinely incomplete, registering confusion and disorder: the unspoken, internalised voice of discontent._

_And then, one woman's dialogue which I was fortunate enough to overhear, made everything startlingly clear._

_'And then right, he totally like, fell over 'cos he was well pissed, and his mate like puked all over him, and then he asked me for my number, and he was well fit, and all I wanted to do was give a big hug and clean all the sick off his back!' This simplistic linking of successive actions acknowledges a childlike awareness of the immediate present, but also displays a desperate longing of the desire to nurture, and the insatiable yearning to be needed. Here, in this dislocated moment, this woman has told us all something that we can never usually admit even to ourselves. All we want is to be wanted._

_So what of the men of the story? Are they here to save their wavering heroines? Actually, it seems much the other way around. These men are just as incomplete without their counterparts as the women. After all, what is a sports star without a beautiful wife or girlfriend? I can answer that: a loser, a virgin, a fag, and all the other accusations that are hurled in the smelly, sweaty showers of the boys' locker rooms at school._

_They seem to be split in to two groups. There are the men who, at a certain point in their prolific football careers stop to ask themselves, 'where's my wife and family? What if I die alone?' And there are the men who stop to think, 'after my three hour yoga session, Thai foot massage and hot wax treatment I'm feeling slightly effeminate, what can I possibly do to reinforce my own masculinity?' The answer seems to be, as it so often is, a gorgeous blonde._

_What I quickly realised, is that it wasn't a party at all, but a thronging mass of desperation. A gathering for people to negotiate an unattainable position between words and action or the emotions they signify. Maybe that was why I acted the way I did. Maybe the longing became mine. Maybe I became swept up in the multiple narratives of the same consciousness: 'why can't it be me?'_

_The party was more than a physical place. More than the four walls, more than the floor and ceiling planes, more than the achingly beautiful soft ground that led the rain back to the earth. On closer examination, the surfaces scraped away, the very skeletons exposed: it was the meeting place, and the vanishing point, of the lines that form my perspective of the past. From it, shimmering ghosts appeared, and memories tingled along my spine and out through my finger-tips._

_Four years ago, I thought I had succeeded, as a pair of hydraulic train-doors closed behind me, in locking those ghosts away once and for all. But they didn't vanish, they were merely displaced. And they have found me. It's like looking up from the paving in a city and noticing, for the first time, that there are angels in the architecture. They've always been there, but I just didn't see them._

_I would go to a thousand of these parties just to see her face._

_Maybe we're all two-dimensional. I've set myself apart from the lost souls at this party, giving myself a hierarchy of presence of mind, of dignity, of superiority. But I'm not. I'm just as incomplete._

_So, what did I learn from this invaluable experience? Well, for one, don't take for granted what you have, because you'll never realise how much you'll miss it. Secondly, red and pink still don't belong together in the same outfit, no matter how much you manage to distract people from it with your boobs. And, perhaps most importantly: stay in school, kids. You'll thank me._

_It all seems futile now, how feverishly I write this as it draws to a close. These words, quick and harmless evaporate without giving satisfactory expression to human life. But, for what it's worth, perhaps now I finally understand what it is that I want, what I need. Maybe most people already knew, and maybe that's why they all cling to each other so fiercely._"

......

Emily exhaled heavily and laid the paper gently onto her lap.

'Fuck's sake Naomi,' she said softly, 'You can't publish that.'


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello! Tremendously short update here, I meant it when I said I had a bum-load of work to do. But I got a couple of reviews urging me to update, and I didn't want you guys to think I'd given up the story and abandoned you. Like I would do a thing like that!**

**Anyway, apologies for the shortness, I wish I could spend more time on it. Updates will be far more regular once the next few weeks are over and I'm slightly less of an over-worked, sleep-deprived wreck. Hope it's enough to keep you guys interested?**

**Have a nice day**

**

* * *

**

'What the _fuck_ is this?'

Naomi jumped as two sheets of paper were flat-palmed heavily onto the table in front of her. Her coffee joggled and spilled in the excitement.

Naomi looked up at Emily's accusatory face.

'What's what?' Naomi asked calmly, using a coaster to flick the spilt coffee off the table. It cascaded over the lip of the small metal table and pattered softly onto the floor into a slippery puddle.

'This!' Emily said, pointing at the paper, 'This '_article_'!'

Naomi snorted softly, 'Em, I'm sorry, it's impossible to look angry doing finger quotes.'

Emily frowned, 'Well, I am angry. You can't write this kind of stuff!'

Naomi rolled her eyes, 'Why not? Freedom of speech Em. Don't be such a fascist.'

'Naomi, shut the _fuck _up for a second. This,' Emily gestured dramatically to the limp pieces of paper that were rapidly soaking up Naomi's coffee, 'Is not on. It's just not on. It's not fucking fair.'

'You didn't like it?' Naomi asked, her gaze dropping sadly.

'It's fucking beautiful. And I hate that you wrote it.'

Naomi opened her mouth to retaliate, but realised she had no response to that statement. She managed to mumble an anticlimactic 'Um ... thanks?'

The surge of rage that Emily entered the café next to library with seemed to have quieted, leaving her diatribe in an awkward state of incompletion. Naomi picked up the pieces of paper from the wet table and scanned them briefly, reminding herself of some of the things she'd written in the depths of that strange night.

'Any other comments?' she asked Emily, not looking up from the paper. 'Queries, advice, criticisms?' She looked at Emily from over the top of the paper. If she had glasses, she'd be peering over their rims right now.

'Yeah,' said Emily, thankful Naomi had broken the silence, 'Use less commas. And for fucks sake use shorter sentences. I forget what you're talking about halfway through.'

Naomi raised an eyebrow. 'I'll bear that in mind.'

Without invitation, Emily pulled up an adjacent chair and sat down. Naomi fought to withhold a satisfied smile. Her left hand moved from the edge of the page to fall down by her side, stealthily sneaking its way under the table and across to Emily's lap, where it rested lightly on her thigh.

Emily looked down at Naomi's hand, committing the sight to memory, and for a few brief seconds letting herself enjoy how important it made her feel. She took a deep breath, 'I can't Naomi.'

She shifted her knee, and Naomi's hand slid from her lap.

Naomi said nothing. Even when she saw Emily look up at her in her peripheral vision, she just continued re-reading her article. In actual fact she wasn't reading at all, merely focusing a word in the middle of the page so that Emily wouldn't look into her eyes in that soul-searching way that she could and see how much those three words crushed every fibre of her being.

'It's too fucked up,' Emily continued, unfazed by Naomi's lack of reaction. 'I can't do this. That's what I came here to tell you.'

Naomi merely chewed her bottom lip, still not looking at Emily.

'Do you have anything to say?' Emily asked, her words escaping her mouth as part of a fatigued sigh.

'You've read what I had to say,' Naomi said nonchalantly. 'All commas and incoherent sentences.'

Emily rolled her eyes. Naomi never did take criticism well. She stood up, the metal legs of the chair scraping unpleasantly on the hard floor. 'Bye Naomi,' she said sadly.

'See ya,' said Naomi absently, staring at the page.

It was all Emily could do to restrain herself from snatching the paper from Naomi and smacking her round the head. The girl was so infuriating: so intense and passionate when it suited her, so cold and distant when it really mattered.

'Fine then,' Emily turned to leave.

She paused.

She deliberated.

She glanced back at Naomi, who quickly looked back down at her article, hoping she hadn't been caught watching. Emily leaned down and slowly pushed the paper down from Naomi's face. Softly lifting her chin with a timid finger, she kissed her lightly on the lips. Naomi's eyes fluttered closed, and her hands clenched the paper they were holding. 'I meant it when I said it was beautiful,' Emily said, drawing back and touching Naomi's cheek gently.

And then she turned and left.

'Hey!' Naomi called after her, suddenly unable to shift her legs into gear enough to get up out of her chair, 'That's not fair!'

A café worker in a green apron carrying a tray of cups promptly slipped over next to Naomi's table in her spilt coffee, clattering to the floor in a jumble of limbs and crockery. Naomi looked down at him, 'Oo sorry,' she said, ' ... spillage.'

The distraction provided Emily with the diversion she needed to escape completely from view, leaving Naomi alone and confused, clutching her sheets of poorly-timed words.


	12. Chapter 12

**So, it turns out I have no work ethic, because that little update last night and the lovely reviews you people submitted for it just served to remind me how much I miss writing this story. So, this morning I got my write-on again to present you with another (full-sized) chapter!**

**But now, seriously, if you see me update again within the next week please tell me to fuck off and get on with my work? Deal? Okay, thanks :)**

**Have a nice day**

**

* * *

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Emily sat on the edge of her bed, expressionless, and feeling a little shell-shocked. She had done it. She had shut Naomi out in the cold where she belonged. She had finally gone through with that sensible plan that her younger-self never had the heart or stomach to do. She knew she feel relieved, or at least be rewarded by some sense of calm. So why did she feel so completely broken?

If she was entirely honest with herself, she didn't really know why she had kissed Naomi in the café. She wanted to make her feel something, or remember something, she was desperate to induce any kind of reaction from the girl. Maybe it was a parting gift, or maybe a selfish part of her wanted Naomi to taste for one last time what she could never have. But that just didn't sound like her. Emily searched herself to find a better reason.

Katie bustled into the room, holding her hair up into position behind her head, hair grips clamped between her lips. She brushed some of Emily's books aside to get to the mirror.

Their reflected eyes made contact in the glass.

'Hus a ah-uh ih oo?' Katie asked, not removing the grips.

'Nothing,' Emily said, 'Where are you going?' noticing Katie's clothes and make-up.

'Oot,' Katie mumbled, fixing a grip to her hair.

'With?'

' ... Nah,' came the quiet response.

Emily paused, 'Who?'

'Nah!' Katie said louder.

'You'd better not be saying Nat, Katie,' Emily warned.

Katie sighed and continued attending to her hair. But Emily was already scrabbling off the bed and approaching the mirror. 'Katie?' she asked again.

Katie rolled her eyes and looked at her, 'Yef, uhkay? Nah. Fo?'

Emily roughly wrenched the grips out of Katie's mouth.

'You're going out with Nat?' she demanded furiously.

'Jesus what's your problem,' Katie asked, snatching the grips back, 'I don't want to get into her pants if that's what you're worried about.'

Emily quickly discarded the disturbing mental image of that before continuing, 'Will you stop pushing this 'me and Nat' thing? I'm not interested in her.'

'Well I like her!' Katie shouted back, 'God how self-centred are you? I'm not going out with her just to fix the mess you made.'

Emily blinked. 'Oh.'

'We're going to a club with Russ and a few of the lads,' she said, 'And I hope she pulls a nice girl who's not blinded with Campbell-vision,' she added touchily.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Emily asked, defensively.

'Oh come on Emily,' Katie said, fixing her with a judgemental look, 'I'm not fucking stupid. I know what's going on. You can't see straight when it comes to Naomi.'

Emily took a moment to reflect on the phrasing.

'And I'll put up with it, whatever,' Katie said as if it wasn't a big deal, 'But seriously, if she hurts you again, Emily. Well,' she left a dramatic pause, '... I'll stop being so nice.'

'When were you nice to her?' Emily asked.

'At the party,' Katie said, as if it was obvious, 'That was me being nice.'

'Jesus.'

'Yeah.'

'Well, you don't have to worry about me and Naomi,' Emily told her after a few seconds of contemplative silence. 'I've told her I don't want to see her anymore.'

Katie raised an eyebrow at her, 'Emily stop talking bollocks,' she said dismissively.

'I'm not!'

'Emily, it's one thing having to put up with you going all gross and squishy around Naomi, but I'm not having you sitting around here all mopey and depressed because you're not with her. Stop being such a fucking loser.'

Emily found herself at a loss for words.

Katie turned her attention back to the mirror, and Emily felt the familiar concoction of irritation and respect for her sister.

'You look pretty,' she said as she smiled at her sister's reflection, taking the grips from Katie and moving to stand behind her, gently twisting up her sister's soft hair and fixing it into place.

* * *

Naomi was smoking furiously, barely finishing one cigarette before she started on another. She had hardly moved for the last hour, save for the mechanical motion of her hand that travelled up and down from her mouth. She was angry at first: Angry with herself, angry at Emily. Angry at how complicated she'd managed to make things for herself in the last few days. Angry at rejecting everything she'd taught herself about loving, and of letting go.

She considered calling Emily, demanding to know where the fuck she got off, that she could stick that fucking article somewhere unpleasant and that she hoped she enjoyed that last kiss, because that was all she was ever going to get. But instead she just kept smoking, knowing that no amount of talking, or shouting, or swearing, would soften the fall that Emily's words caused.

She closed her eyes and thought about rain. Falling rain took her back to the mansion grounds, and then back further again to a time when she would stare out at it from a darkened window, leaving a lonely shape curled up in her bed, limbs all tucked up and under to avoid any kind of accidental contact. The rain would hammer into Naomi's vision, telling her to join it – join it in falling, ceaselessly, and then in running forever back to the sea. She would put her fingers up to the glass and feel the jarring cold through the surface, imagining she was nothing more than water, and praying that Emily would rise from her bed and lead her from the window before she disintegrated into droplets, embracing her until she forgot her own name.

She opened her eyes with a sigh, flicking away another spent fag end and reaching for her packet again. There was one lonely cigarette left, looking small and carcinogenic as she rattled it around in the pack. She sighed, closing the packet and leaning back heavily on the bench of the park. Night would fall soon, and she'd be grateful of the tiny, smouldering stick on the walk home. She ran her hand through her hair, wondering where Emily was, if she was deliberating, phone in hand, whether to call Naomi and take back everything she'd said in the café back. Naomi knew it was stupid to think that the article would go any way towards fixing the mess she'd created when she left Emily. But she hoped that it showed Emily that she was willing to try.

* * *

Katie had hugged her, briefly, as they reached the entrance of the club. Emily had insisted on walking Katie to the door, not wishing to truncate the time they spent together whilst Emily was feeling so warm towards her. They looked at each other for a moment, and concern flashed across Katie's face.

'You're not coming in are you?' she asked.

Emily rolled her eyes. Hello Katie, she thought, glad to have you back. 'No,' she said, 'Don't worry.'

'Okay,' Katie said, with slightly too much relief. She caught Emily's look, 'No,' she began quickly, 'It's just, your dress ... your shoes ... they won't ... I mean -,' she tried to word it delicately.

'Don't worry,' Emily repeated with an affectionate smile, 'I don't want to go in anyway. I had enough of that crowd at the party. And I've definitely had enough of you.'

'Bitch,' said Katie, with a smile. With that, the girl walked through the door and vanished into the darkness of the club.

Emily inhaled the sweet evening air and began to walk home, deciding to leave the pavement that edged the busy road and walk home in the half-light through the gentle quiet of the park that stretched out, separating the centre of the town from its suburban outskirts.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, clutching it briefly, wondering whether to call Naomi, or maybe text her. She slipped it back into her pocket. She wasn't ready, and the evening was too warm and pleasant for her to be worrying about it. All she needed was the faint accompaniment of the dying birdsong, and the occasional noise of conversation from the few people left milling around the park. She felt calm inside. Quiet.

It was short-lived, those few minutes of complete peace. Because as Emily strolled care-free along the path beside the lake, she noticed a figure sitting on a bench. Even in the greying light, she had absolutely no qualms about who it was. She looked up to the sky as if to say, 'oh, universe, think you're funny do you?'

'Naomi, hi,' she said, stopping in front of the bench.

Naomi looked up at her. 'Emily?' she asked, in an uncertain way with which Emily was not used to hearing her speak.

'What are you doing out here?' Emily asked, sitting down on the bench next to her.

'Pretty much this,' Naomi said, demonstrating by continuing to do nothing.

'Looks like fun,' Emily said, leaning back into the bench in an imitation of Naomi's pose.

'Why are you here?' Naomi asked.

'I was just walking through. Do you want me to leave?'

There was a pause.

'Naomi?'

'No.'

Emily sat forwards again, tucking her hands under her thighs and fidgeting her feet. 'I'm sorry about what I said,' she admitted.

Naomi shook her head, 'Why should you be.'

She also sat forward, but only in transition as she stood up. 'I'm cold,' she said, pulling her jacket to meet in the middle, 'I'm going home.'

Emily looked up. Naomi looked tired, and Emily instantly wanted to reach out to her. She closed her eyes briefly, her mind conjuring a series of flashbacks of how she would wait for Naomi at her house, outside college, in the common room, at lunch, in the morning, in the evening, at night outside any pub or club she might just turn up at. The remembered innocence of her own devotion made her smile briefly. She stood to face Naomi, 'I'll walk you home,' she said.

'Whatever,' Naomi sighed, fumbling around for that last cigarette.

After the first few paces Emily slipped her warm hand into Naomi's cold grasp. Her thoughts went a little foggy as she felt Naomi grip her hand, twisting in her palm to interlock their fingers. Struggling through the sudden delirium, Emily's mind tried to warn her of something. Something about old habits, and how they die hard.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hmm ... it appears I've updated, despite promising not to. Well, I know I told you guys to tell me to go away if I did that, and I guess you could still do that.**

**But I have a reason for updating tonight. And here it is: I just watched Joanna Newsom perform on Later with Jools Holland, and it was so beautiful that I just had to go and create something myself. It's not anywhere near as beautiful as what she played, but if it makes you guys even half as happy as that just made me, I'll be very content :)**

**Also, big respect to LuvActually for her last chapter. I'm assuming everyone else was left completely speechless by that? Good.**

**Have a nice day**

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* * *

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There was a chill in the air that evening. The sun had taken its warmth with it to the other side of the world, and night crept coldly through the city. Emily felt Naomi's clasp around her hand tighten as she sped up, almost dragging her along. Emily's shorter legs did all they could to keep up, settling into an awkward rhythm somewhere between walking and jogging. Naomi cast a look back in confusion at the strange person bouncing jauntily on the end of her arm.

It was a strange thing to see for many reasons, not least for the fact that Naomi never thought for a moment she'd ever be dragging Emily Fitch back to her house again. In her mind she briefly held the memory of the first time she committed such an act. If she remembered correctly, Emily had been plastered in fake bruises, and had left angry and shoeless.

'Nearly there Em,' she said, fighting to suppress a laugh at the look of complete concentration on Emily's face as she focused on her feet.

Emily looked up at the sound of Naomi's voice and surveyed the landscape. She noticed the shop fronts of chip shops, noodle bars and small all-night incarnations of supermarkets, all carpeted by cracked and loose paving slabs that were scattered with debris from the aforementioned establishments. Student-ville. Emily didn't miss it. It was loud and dirty, running on alcohol and egos until dawn.

Naomi led Emily under a road-bridge then up some steps through a stone embankment that led to housing at a higher level. The noise of the main road subsided as they turned the corner into a row of Victorian terraces, which stood tall and dark against the night, their chimneys and bay windows punctuating a rhythm along the road.

Naomi stopped in front of a house halfway down the road. They stood for a while, together outside, looking at the house, their hands gripping tight to each other.

'Do you want to come in?' Naomi asked, shattering the quiet. Their joined hands fell apart.

Emily looked up at the house as if it suddenly terrified her, rearing fearsomely above her like a wild horse.

'It's not as bad as it looks,' Naomi reassured her. She shook her head, 'Actually, it's just as bad as it looks. It's old, damp, full of students, and I'm fairly sure there's something living under our kitchen sink,' she corrected herself, 'but I have vodka.'

Knowing full well that the interesting array of flora and fauna her house cultivated wasn't anything to do with the look of trepidation on Emily's face, Naomi hoped that her own confidence would influence Emily's decision. Be brave Emily, Naomi commanded her silently. You were once.

After a moment of what Naomi suspected was intense internal debate, Emily turned her gaze from the house to Naomi. She smiled a small nervous smile and nodded, 'Sure. You owe me a drink anyway, for being your chaperone.'

* * *

The house was damp. Emily could smell it. And even though it was summer, a chill hung in the high ceilings of the rooms. Emily peered into the living room. It was small and dark and the walls were plastered in posters and photos. Noticing Emily regarding a particularly incriminating photo of Naomi in an unconscious drunken state with her head resting on a toilet seat, Naomi swiftly took Emily's hand and led her wordlessly up the stairs to her room.

Naomi closed her bedroom door behind them. I'm in Naomi Campbell's room, Emily thought to herself, as she looked around. She tried to quell her urge to explore, to go poking shamelessly around in Naomi's room like she was prone to when she used to stay over. She couldn't help being inquisitive. She remembered coldly that that habit didn't always lead to pleasant discoveries.

'Wait here,' Naomi said, touching Emily lightly on the arm. 'I'll get booze.'

Naomi left the room, her whole body tingling with excitement. Emily's in my room, she thought to herself, bounding down the stairs.

When Naomi returned with the bottle of vodka she kept in the freezer (to make it seem slightly classier) she noticed Emily had a small hard-back book in her hand.

A scrap book, full of photos and other memorabilia.

Her stomach twisted. Emily looked up at Naomi, not even trying to disguise the fact she had been prying. She was always so _fucking_ curious.

'When did you go to Mexico?' Emily asked flatly, not letting go of the book.

Naomi set the vodka down on her desk and knelt down on the floor beside Emily. 'Before I went to college,' Naomi admitted, looking down at her hands which held tightly onto each other in her lap. 'I took a gap year. I went ... travelling.'

She chanced a look back at Emily.

She looked broken. Again.

'Are you angry?' Naomi asked.

It took a while for Emily to regain the ability to speak. She felt like her throat had been stamped on.

'How was it?' Emily asked, looking Naomi straight in the eye with a cold, searching stare.

Naomi was unsure how to answer, 'It was good,' she said, 'You'd have loved it.'

Wrong answer wrong answer wrong answer wrong answer, her brain rang with the alarm.

Emily turned the book over in her hands.

'We were always so fucking pointless to you, weren't we?' she said finally.

'What? No! Ems I –'

'Save it Naomi,' Emily said, tossing the book into Naomi's lap. 'You couldn't stay faithful to me long enough to make it through the summer, you couldn't stay with me long enough for me to make amends, and you couldn't stay in the same fucking country long enough to face everything you fucked up. It's like I wasn't even your girlfriend. You wouldn't have done anything any fucking differently if I wasn't there.'

Naomi kept quiet.

'I wanted to go to Mexico with you Naomi,' Emily said, her voice cracking, making it sound even huskier than usual. 'I'd have fucking stayed in Bristol forever if that's what you wanted. But I guess it turns out all you wanted was to get away from me.' Emily stood up and made her way to the door. Her whole body felt heavy as she moved.

'I took you with me,' Naomi said, before Emily reached the door.

Emily turned to look at the girl sitting on the floor.

'I took you with me everywhere I went,' Naomi's eyes glistened as she looked back up at Emily. 'Even when I tried to leave you behind. Even when I fucking _yelled_ at you to stop following me.'

Emily stayed where she was stood, and Naomi seized her opportunity to continue.

'I went out there to get away. To experience stuff, see places, meet people. But when I was out there all I found was you, and everything I'd done. And I'm such a fucking coward because –'

Naomi paused to open a draw in the nightstand by her bed. She extracted another small book, like the one Emily had already seen, and stood to present the book to Emily. Gingerly, Emily took a step forward and took the book from Naomi's hands. She carefully opened it, as if something dangerous was about to spring out of it any second.

'- I knew you'd never see it,' Naomi continued. 'But I started making it before I even realised what I was doing. Everything I saw, everywhere I went ...' she shrugged, her words failing her.

Emily turned the pages of the book. On every page was a photo, or a leaflet, or a postcard, or a beer mat, or a business card that Naomi had stuck down. Each item had Naomi's messy scrawl across it or next to it.

'Actually found a place that serves Emily's favourite beer' read one.

'This place serves everything with cheese! Must tell Emily to go here,' read another.

'... I ate too much cheese,' read the one on the following page.

'This view of the harbour made me think of Emily,' read another._ '_All the ships are being packed up ready to leave for the sea_._ I wonder if she misses me.'

Another photo was a shot of the entrance of a bar, bikes and motorcycles chained up to the wooden fence of its veranda. Naomi had circled a vehicle that looked very similar to Emily's own moped.

Another photo was simply of a beach at sunrise. 'Emily,' was all the note read.

And it went on.

For pages and pages.

Emily looked up to see Naomi on the verge of crying. It was as if she was waiting for Emily to take the final step and leave the room, shutting her inside alone finally with her tears and her book.

Emily didn't move. She felt strange. Like something within her had shifted orientation. Something had changed. And the change was cool and refreshing like rain. Maybe like the rain that she knew Naomi used to watch with such dull eyes from her window, or maybe it was like the rain that fell between her and Naomi that evening on the lawn – the wet, transient sheet that enveloped them both. Emily knew that she would have to step out from under the shelter soon, the one that shielded her from the downpour.

As Emily looked at Naomi she realised why she felt so strange. She wasn't looking at Naomi with the reverence she held for her before, and she wasn't looking at her like the person who had ruined her life, tearing her heart and soul down like a curtain from its rail. She was looking at her, for the first time, like a real person. It was like she was seeing her through new eyes. Naomi was a real, fallible, human, that she could reach out and touch without her evaporating, or disintegrating. And if her touch left a mark, the mark would fade.

Emily took a step closer towards Naomi. She handed her back the book, and leaned up to kiss her softly on the cheek. She drew away again, looking into Naomi's eyes. 'Where's that vodka you promised me then?' she asked.

* * *

So they talked. Sitting on the floor of Naomi's room, they talked like best friends who hadn't seen each other in years and had a lifetime of gossip to catch up on. The bottle of vodka slowly diminished in quantity, until Emily's mind felt pleasantly fuzzy. She gazed at Naomi as she talked, adding to her long list of 'ways my mother has embarrassed me.'

Naomi's lips looked soft and pale, and Emily watched them as she spoke. Naomi noticed, moistening her lips automatically and becoming suddenly very aware of the movement of her mouth. Emily would occasionally bring her gaze guiltily back to Naomi's eyes, but it would trail back down to her mouth within seconds, unable to resist. Harshly refuting all the commands her nerve endings and vodka-stricken brain were currently sending her, Naomi turned and lay down on her back, removing herself from Emily's temptation. She had pushed Emily once. Now it was not her place to. She closed her eyes. She heard Emily shift beside her.

Emily looked down onto Naomi's peaceful face. Her chest rose and fell, her hands resting on top, moving with the steady rhythm. She edged closer to Naomi's horizontal form as quietly as she could. Even here, on the worn brown carpet of a dilapidated house, Naomi was beautiful. It made it a beautiful place.

Emily leaned heavily on her arms, feeling them shake as they threatened to buckle and let her tumble forwards. Emily felt like she was fighting to remain in control of herself as some kind of restless spirit tried relentlessly to make her give in. She could feel as it lifted her hand, using it to brush a curl of blonde hair from Naomi's face.

Naomi felt the gentle brush of Emily's fingers, but chose to keep her eyes closed, allowing her skin to tingle from the contact. She heard material shift again, and felt Emily move beside her.

Emily took a few moments as she leant down, to hover over Naomi, lingering to absorb the view of the girl beneath her. Closing her eyes finally, she leant forwards again, softly brushing her lips against Naomi's. She felt Naomi's breath hitch, and her eyes fluttered open briefly, before Naomi leant up swiftly, capturing Emily's lips, her hand reaching up to slide over Emily's jaw line and cheek and into her hair. Emily felt Naomi's body rise as she parted her lips, deepening the kiss, allowing Naomi's hands to move from her hair to her back and tug her down towards her.

The second, Naomi had felt warm breath against her lips, she worried she was asleep. Asleep and dreaming of the softness and the warmth that was currently overwhelming her senses and melting every muscle in her body. She pulled at it, needing it closer, needing its reassurance, needing it to cover every inch of her with its smooth, silken presence.

If it was all some beautiful, shifting dream, Naomi hoped to die before she woke.


	14. Chapter 14

**Good evening/ morning/ afternoon/ night and a warm welcome :) How are you?**

**Thanks once again for the lovely comments. My massive amount of work has subsided (briefly) so I thought I'd post an update for you.**

**A mini-essay to start you off: (NB not really an essay, I fucking hate essays)**

**There seems to be a bit of a mixed response to the fact Naomi kept a book around Mexico reserved for Emily. Well, in all honesty, I think it's a realistic thing for her to do. Let's not forget, Naomi is (or was) completely infatuated with Emily. Emily's persistence in chasing Naomi in season 3, then her stoic rejection of her in season 4 after the Sophia thing will quite effectively turn someone like Naomi a little bit mental. Naomi is weak, scared, and above all, she is dishonest. She's been lying for years (according to her grand speech at the end of series 4, she's been lying since she was 12). Denying yourself for that long turns you into a strange person. And it makes you very good at hiding away how you actually feel, until you're not even sure you actually feel it anymore. So, to Naomi, that book was more than a reminder of Emily. It's a reminder of herself. Who she really is, or who Emily made her feel strong enough to be, if only for a little while.**

**Okay ... so that's my very brief analysis of what's going on, (not brief enough, I hear you say). Onwards!**

**(ps: a note on my other story. Like I say, it is written, but on closer inspection I'm not entirely happy with it, so please forgive me while I take a bit of time to correct the crappy bits so it's good enough for me to present it to you? Don't make me make you read crap! Ta muchly)**

**Have a nice day**

Emily became aware of sounds before she opened her eyes. The crescendo and fade of passing cars, the distant shouts and clinking of glass bottles from the night's wanderers, the metallic, hollow drone of the central heating, and the velveteen exhalation of breath from the sleeping figure next to her. She allowed her eyes to open, blinking as they adjusted to the darkness that cloaked the room.

Slowly, dark smudges clarified into definite lines and shapes, and Emily lazily surveyed the room in which she had awoken. Naomi's room. Much like her bedroom in her mum's house, this room was utter disorder. Furniture jerked out at conflicting angles, strewn with clutter from Naomi's life. Pages of words, heaps of clothes, discarded jewellery, books and films all stacked in disorganised and unstable piles. Everything seemed displaced. Emily let her head fall to the right, allowing her gaze to rest on Naomi's quiescent form, her face deceptively peaceful and content amongst all of the chaos she had created.

Emily's eyes fluttered closed briefly as she thought of the way Naomi had kissed her and held her last night, as if her very existence depended on it. She had never felt so needed and wanted in her life. She gently ran the side of her forefinger along Naomi's jaw line. Emily knew she had forgiven Naomi, but she was all too aware that Naomi was just as live and dangerous as she had always been. Emily let herself smile as she realised that she _wanted_ to be there, as Naomi carried on, volatile and unpredictable. She found it fascinating. She always had. She was ready to get to know Naomi again.

She reached for the hand Naomi had curled up under her chin like a paw, kneading it loose and entwining their fingers together. She watched Naomi's eyes flutter open, hazily focusing on the sight in front of her. She blinked slowly several times, registering the information around her. She looked down at her hand in Emily's own, and then back up, her eyes uncertain, as if this all presented some kind of difficult arithmetic problem.

Unable to wait for Naomi to work it all out, Emily lifted herself up and kissed Naomi gently. She wanted to tell her that she wanted to be near her again, that fear and resentment had ruled her for long enough. Naomi's free hand slid from under the covers and under the thin layer of material to the smooth warm skin of Emily's back, tracing the undulation of her spine and the shifting shapes of her shoulder blades as she moved above her.

Emily broke from Naomi's kiss and looked down. She felt Naomi's hand flex against her back as Naomi opened her eyes. They shone ever so slightly in the dark room.

Naomi gazed up at Emily, casting her mind briefly back to the evening, how they had stumbled drunkenly into bed after finally managing to stop their ceaseless kissing upon her bedroom floor. Naomi sat up and gently pushed Emily down, twisting over to her side and pressing down on Emily from above. Suddenly, Emily's desire to admit her revelation to Naomi, took on a very different form.

Emily met Naomi's kiss with parted lips, running her hands along the ripple of her ribcage and up to the back of her head. She pulled her closer, rising up to her touch as Naomi ran nimble fingers along the length of her thighs. Her hands felt as smooth and warm as sun-bathed stone, her lips soft and wet like the flesh of a stone-fruit.

Naomi's touch became more forceful, and her mouth left Emily's to press rough kisses along Emily's pale and exposed neck. Each one of them caused Emily to twist and press against her as she clutched Naomi closer to her, her breath hot and ragged in her ear.

As Naomi pushed the base of Emily's t-shirt up and across her taught abdomen, she felt a firm grip encase her hand. She stopped, and pulled back to look at Emily.

Emily's eyes were closed as she made a conscious effort to calm her breathing. As radical as her revelation had been, she wasn't yet ready to surrender herself entirely to Naomi. She licked her lips slowly and opened her eyes. She smiled sheepishly at Naomi, whose chest still rose and fell with rapid breath. Emily reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Naomi's ear.

Naomi chewed her bottom lip before pressing a soft kiss to Emily's forehead, and then let her slip from under her to the side, and leave the bed.

Emily silently gathered her things. She heard Naomi turn and sit up. Their eyes locked, and not a word passed between them. Emily tugged on her shoes and picked up her bag. Naomi sat completely still like she was in the presence of a timid animal, as if a sudden movement would cause Emily to bolt.

Emily cast one look back at the motionless girl in bed, before opening the door and slipping silently from the room. When Naomi heard the front door bang shut she let herself exhale the breath she was holding. The look in Emily's eyes before she left was unmistakable. She was forgiven. The fact that Emily had fled was irrelevant. In fact, Naomi had expected her to do so far sooner. She let herself fall back onto her pillow, and drifted effortlessly back into sleep. Emily's resolve had crumbled, she could no longer escape. This was Emily's Mexico. Emily's turn to realise that no matter how far she ran, Naomi couldn't be outrun.

* * *

Emily swayed unsteadily as another book was balanced atop the crooked tower of books Kyle had lumbered her with re-shelve. It made her think fondly of the towers of literature in Naomi's room, how they all seemed to tremble with the proximity of collapsing. She hadn't heard from Naomi all morning. Not even a simple text to enquire whether she had got home safely. She tried not to panic about the fact that Naomi could have simply mistaken her sudden departure as rejection. Surely she understood that everything was gaining too much speed. If Emily needed time, surely Naomi would be willing to grant it.

'Hello Ems,' came the cheerful morning greeting, the volume and suddenness of which causing Emily to drop the entire stack of books.

Her eyes met Naomi's, and one corner of her mouth flicked up in a brief, shy smile. 'How do you keep getting in?' she asked.

'Ninja skills?' Naomi ventured, 'Or the fact that your card swipey thing is buggered.'

'Well you're certainly no ninja,' Emily mused.

'Harsh.'

'Can I help you with something?'

'Can you help me with my hip flexibility exercises?'

'Naomi!' Emily chastised, feeling her cheeks burn instantly.

'Fine,' Naomi said nonchalantly, 'but let it be on your head if I get arthritis in later life.'

Naomi paused for Emily's comeback. But there wasn't one. Naomi rolled her eyes and stepped closer to the desk. 'Come out with me?' she asked, leaning forward on her elbows over the counter.

'I'm going to have to get them to tighten security here,' Emily cast a look over to the security guard at the front double doors who was seemingly immersed in a crossword book.

'Come out with me?' Naomi asked again.

'Why?'

'Because you want to.'

'Don't tell me what I want Naomi.'

'Well don't make it so obvious then,' Naomi replied with a smirk.

Emily rolled her eyes. 'If I say yes,' she considered, 'will you stop coming to the library.'

Naomi stood for a while in contemplation. 'Okay. Though I don't get why it bothers you so much.'

'It doesn't.'

'You're a terrible liar dear.'

'I just like to work in peace and quiet.'

'Ems, it's a fucking library. The only place quieter than this is a fucking morgue.'

Emily looked at her, hands on hips, 'Yeah, and then you turn up and suddenly it all gets very loud.'

Naomi, looked around, noticing several pairs of angry eyes focused on her and the slightly too audible debate she was having. 'Jesus Christ Em, keep your voice down. This is a fucking library you know.'

Emily merely let out an exasperated sigh by way of a response.

Naomi smirked, 'Come out with me, and I'll never disturb the sanctuary of your library ever again.' She held up her hands, 'Promise.'

'I don't know what a promise from Naomi Campbell is worth,' came the unswerving reply.

'Well, take a chance then Fitch,' Naomi told her as she moved away from the counter.

Emily watched Naomi's retreating form. 'For fuck's sake,' she muttered to herself.

She met the cold stare of a disgruntled student hunched over a writing pad on a nearby desk. He seemed rather obviously displeased at her unsuitable library conduct.

Emily glared at him, 'Oh get a fucking job,' she told him, crouching down to pick up her scattered books.

Naomi left the library through the broken barrier and the double doors and stepped out into the sunshine. She inhaled the warm air deeply, allowing herself a small self-satisfied smile. It all seemed so fucking simple. Was it always this simple?


	15. Chapter 15

**Okay, so, I passed my degree. Weird. And now I have a rather excessive amount of time on my hands. Which is even weirder. So I thought I'd post an update. A few of you said you liked the dialogue/ banter in this story, so I thought I'd try to get a bit more of that into this chapter. I've also tried to make things a little more light-hearted, as I've realised that the last few chapters weren't so much. Let me know what you think? I'm going to be rounding this story off soon, so do let me know what you'd like to see more/less of in the last few chapters :)**

**Also, thank you for the comments (once again). I know I'm a shite at special thank you's, shout-outs, or expressing even slightly how much your reviews all mean to me, but ... they're seriously awesome. I can't thank you enough.**

**Have a nice day**

**

* * *

**

Wide-awake and fidgety, Emily felt like she had been transported back in time. She lay in bed blinking into the darkness, accompanied only by the gentle snores of her sister, which she would always deny when confronted, her stomach full of the anxious snarling that she used to get every Monday morning before school. The weekend would usually have dragged on bleakly, feeling like it lasted far longer than two days, and Emily would wait nervously in the dark for the 7.25am alarm that signalled the start of a new school day, and the prospect of seeing Naomi again.

Irritated at her self-induced insomnia, she turned over onto her side to face the wall. She determinedly closed her eyes shut with a slight frown, and tried to think about anything other than Naomi. Her mind, it seemed, wasn't trying very hard to come up with alternative suggestions. Emily huffed and turned back to lie on her back, jiggling her legs under the duvet. She sighed again and turned on her other side to face out into the room. Her eyes met the unimpressed glare of her sister.

'Go to fucking sleep,' was the polite request.

'I can't,' Emily whispered back.

Katie sighed, 'I can't believe I have to share a room with you again,' she muttered, rubbing her tired eyes and tucking the duvet up under her chin.

Emily rolled her eyes, 'What about me? You fucking snore!'

'I do not!'

'Whatever.'

There was a brief moment of silence.

'You do though,' Emily muttered quietly.

'I heard that.'

'That's because you weren't snoring.'

'Is this about Naomi?'

Emily sat up. 'What? No. This is about you snoring and keeping me awake.'

'You're awake because you're worried about something.' Katie also sat up, 'Like that time you spilt half your chemistry set on the rabbit and it went purple. You fidgeted the whole fucking night.'

'I'm seeing her tomorrow.'

There was a pause.

'Oh right.'

'Naomi ... not the rabbit.'

'Yeah got that. Do send her my _fondest_ regards won't you.'

'Katie?'

'Yeah?'

'I'm kind of ... scared.'

'Of that skinny bitch? I could so take her Ems.'

'That's not what I mean.'

'I know.'

* * *

Naomi's watch felt heavy on her slender wrist. It clung to her, constantly reminding her of the unsympathetic passage of time as it whipped past her at a dizzying rate, its very progress tracked on the time-piece at the base of her hand. She tried not to glance at it with every passing minute, but as Emily's arrival became later and later, she couldn't help impatiently raising the watch to her face.

The day was warm, the welcome breeze travelling in the direction of the prevailing wind, bringing with it the cooling breath of the sea. Naomi was posed languidly against a cast-iron column, which supported the cantilevered balcony of a café above her. The café looked out over the new, elegantly crafted water-front. The river was as muddy and brown as ever, but the new development it ran through boasted high-quality residential, commercial and business districts, tastefully paved with the finest Chinese granite, the fast-flowing water sectioned off from the public with the finest health-and-safety approved railing and balustrades. It was an historical area, and reflected ghosts of its past life still shimmered in the bright sunlight that bounced off the water. Bridges still stretched across from the industrial warehouses that lined the banks of the other side of the river, and keys and locks still chambered the flow of the water, sticking out obstinately like the new clientele of the area meant nothing to them.

This area really had gone up in the world since Naomi had last been here, ironically to protest the development of an 'ecologically diverse wetland'. She briefly rolled her eyes at the memory, her hand firmly clasped around her mothers, cold and wet, her polythene poncho stuck to her skin, having no idea why she was there or why everyone around her was shouting so loud.

Her heavy watch brought her back to the present day, and she shifted anxiously against the column. She had already smoked the remaining five cigarettes in her pack of ten. Her fidgeting hands now had nothing to do other than fumble over each other urgently, as those ever progressing seconds ticked on.

Determined not to give up, or run off, Naomi stayed rooted to the paving beneath the balcony, even when a few minutes turned into, fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes, and then pressed on unremittingly.

'Naomi.'

Naomi visibly jumped. She had been staring so unfalteringly in the direction she expected Emily to come from that when she appeared at her other side it took her completely by surprise.

'Emily!' she said in shock, before trying to cover it smoothly with a smile. 'Hi.'

'Sorry I'm late,' Emily said, hitching up the bag that was slipping down her shoulder.

On closer inspection, Emily's face was tinged pink, and her breath was short, as if she had been rushing.

'S'okay,' Naomi shrugged. 'I haven't been here long.'

Emily nodded in what seemed like relief as they moved away from the café and along the marina.

'So do you want to get a drink?' Naomi asked, wishing for the confidence to take Emily's hand in her own as it swung at her side.

'Yeah ... but I want something first,' Emily said, stopping and looking at Naomi.

Naomi turned to face Emily as she looked pleadingly up at her. 'Um ... okay. What's that?' she managed to ask, her fingers twitching as they debated whether to reach forwards.

Emily paused before answering: 'I want some biscuits.'

Naomi swallowed. 'Biscuits?'

'Yeah,' Emily said with a smirk, 'I missed lunch. I've need a sugar-fix.'

So Naomi followed Emily into the nearest shop to sate her cravings. Having at last located the biscuit aisle, Naomi stopped abruptly in front of it, gesturing dramatically to the stacked cylindrical packets before turning to Emily expectantly. Emily seemed at a loss for choice.

'So, how you feeling Ems?' Naomi asked, surveying the selection. 'Are you feeling chocolate-covered or cream-filled?'

The girls exchanged a glance, and Naomi fought to keep a straight face at her own comment.

'Neither of those adequately describe how I'm feeling,' Emily replied soberly.

'Oo!' Naomi said, pointing towards a lilac coloured packet. 'Butter Puffs!'

'Butter puffs?'

'Yeah. Semi-savoury!'

Emily looked at Naomi. 'What the fuck is semi-savoury? It's either savoury or it isn't.'

'No because look,' Naomi grabbed the packet, 'It's a butter puff. It's half butter and half ... erm, well,' Naomi's conviction in her own argument seemed to peter out.

'You're a butter puff,' Emily told her, taking the packet from her. 'Aren't these more your style?' she asked, picking up a rectangular packet of garibaldis instead.

Naomi pulled a face and recoiled from the offending item. 'Jesus Christ get those things away from me.'

Emily frowned. 'They're garibaldis Naoms. I'm fairly sure you used to want to marry them.'

'Yeah,' Naomi regarded the packet uneasily, 'you know how my excessive garibaldi consumption both impressed and intrigued you?'

' ...um'

'- and I was all 'there's no such thing as too many garibaldis'? ... Turns out there is.'

'Learned the hard way, huh?'

'Oh yeah.'

Emily placed the traumatic biscuits back on the shelf.

* * *

The day passed by in a sunny haze as the two girls adjusted to each other's company. Emily had forgotten how they used to interact. Memories of her time with Naomi had become so clouded with blind love and hate that she barely recalled how nice it was just to be with Naomi. Conversely, Naomi retained her memories of their carefree interactions with startling clarity, always trying her best to forget the times that had been so polluted with her own insecurities.

These moments, these fleeting moments where they were able to talk, and touch, and laugh, made the day feel as weightless and ephemeral as a dream. Sitting at a table outside a bar that spilled out onto the river embankment, Emily looked over the rim of her glass to Naomi. The leaching orange of the sky as the sun began to set highlighted the untameable wisps of hair that haloed her head, her eyes bright and happy, her mouth curled up at the corners as she spoke, unable to maintain her mask of indifference as she spoke animatedly about democratic reform. And as Emily made these observations, she began to realise that she was in a lot deeper than she previously thought. In fact, she realised with a growing feeling of panic, she might not be able to turn back. She looked out to river that flowed apathetically onwards.

'What do you think Ems?' Naomi asked, having concluded the point she was making.

'Um ... about what?'

'About the gender balance in the house of commons,' Naomi said, 'How misrepresented women are in the cabinet.'

'...well, I'm all for it.'

Naomi raised her eyebrows.

'I mean ... I'm all for more women in the closet.'

'Cabinet.'

'Yeah ... that's what I said.'

'You haven't been listening have you?'

'I have! ... I just didn't understand the question.'

Naomi smiled at how adorably flustered Emily was getting. She reached across the table and gently clasped her hand around Emily's. 'It's alright. I'll speak more slowly in future.' She looked at Emily seriously, 'Do you need me to write that down?'

'Fuck off,' Emily said, not retracting her hand.

Naomi stoked her thumb over the smooth, flawless skin of the hand beneath hers, softly at first, and then more boldly. She wondered at that moment that if Emily hadn't abruptly and unexpectedly reappeared in her life on graduation day, whether she would have found her own way back to her. The tangled strands of her life all seemed to lead up to this moment, where she was connected once again with Emily, the one person who simultaneously made and ruined her.

And it was then that she knew she had to act. Because across the table from her was the one thing she had ever believed in. And it was then that she leant forwards, and kissed Emily's lips gently, unwittingly tightening her grip around Emily's hand, feeling Emily's free hand slide up into her hair. As Emily's lips moved against her own, the bright flashing of love burned behind her closed eyes.

* * *

Night blotted like ink across the sky as Emily dragged Naomi along the marina in the direction of home. Squat, rounded bollards punctuated the water's edge, connected in an orderly line by thick, heavy chain.

'Hang on ... is that my sister?' Emily wondered out-loud, squinting towards two approaching staggering figures.

'Oh I do hope so,' Naomi sighed as Emily dragged her forwards by the hand.

'Katie?' shouted Emily uncertainly.

Naomi reflexively dropped her hand from Emily's grasp.

'Emily, hi,' Katie said as she got closer.

Naomi realised who her staggering compatriot was.

'Nat,' Emily said in surprise.

'Hello Emily,' she girl slurred, clutching a bottle of wine. Emily realised that Katie was in actual fact propping the girl up against her. She turned her gaze to Naomi. 'I know you.' Nat gestured at Naomi with the wine bottle, 'You're the soggy writer from the party.'

Naomi rolled her eyes, 'That's me.'

'Yeah this is Naomi Campbell from the party,' Emily informed her.

'Aaaah!' said Nat, as if all the mysteries of life had suddenly become clear. 'So you're _the_ Naomi Campbell.'

Naomi cast a look in Emily's direction before looking squarely back at Nat, 'You may want to catch up on your society pages. I'm just _a_ Naomi Campbell.'

'Yeah ... it is you,' Nat wielded the bottle in her direction, 'Katie said you thought you were funny.'

'I'm not funny! ... I mean, I don't think I'm funny!'

She saw Emily try and suppress a giggle.

The less amused Fitch seemed very preoccupied with dragging Nat away from whole situation.

'So _the_ Naomi,' Nat seemed intent on continuing, 'What brings you back?'

Naomi answered the question with a inquiring but disinterested look.

'You know,' continued Nat, 'Back to our little Emily here. Didn't think you thought she was worth coming back to.'

'Okay Nat,' Katie said, clutching her friend by the shoulders and trying to forcibly steer her away, 'It's been lovely chatting. We're going to head off.'

'No, let her finish,' Naomi said stonily.

'Why thank you, Miss Campbell,' Nat said, sloshing wine over her own shoes. 'Katie's been telling me all about you. What you did.'

Naomi's jaw clenched as she waited for the girl to continue.

Nat gave her a wink before taking another swig from the bottle and then asking: 'Killed anyone recently?'

'That's enough!' Emily said, snatching the bottle from Nat's loose grip and hurling it briskly into the river. 'Take her home Katie,' she ordered quietly, but fiercely.

She watched as Katie grappled with the disagreeable girl, who shrugged from her grasp and tottered unsteadily away.

'Naomi-' Emily turned to speak to her but she was gone, nothing more than a quickly retreating figure against the dark sky.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello friendly readers/ writers/ general awesome people :) **

**Thank you once again for every single one of your comments and subscriptions. Something resounded rather significantly for me within the last few reviews, and that's the fact that a few people revealed this story set them off on their road into fanfiction-land. Seriously lovely to know, thanks guys :)**

**So I thought in reply I'd give a big thank you to some of writers and stories that inspired me to start out/continue and apologise profusely for being such a terrible reviewer: LuvActually's Retreat, Circle 142's Trial of Emily Fitch, Blue-Eyed-Blonde90's Heart Skipped a Beat, Hyperfitched's I hold a Force, NiceoneBlondie's Ink, My-other-ride-is-your-mum's Static Waves, and hac92's Denial is Useless, _to name just a few_. And of course, everyone else who's stories I haven't yet discovered/read but will as soon as I wrap my own up. **

**Anyway, onwards. Only 2-3 more chapters to go I reckon. **

**Have a nice day

* * *

**

_Naomi's whole body was shaking, and she was sick. Guilt raked through her brain with spiking fingers as she tried to calm the high-pitched buzzing in her ears. Every organ beneath her pallid, sweat-drenched skin felt as though it was twisting and contorting into unrecognisable shapes, wringing itself dry of the blood it needed to survive. It was terrifying. It took all the strength she could scrape together to stop her bandying legs from snapping beneath her. Her cold, moist hands palmed the rough brick of the wall as she felt her way along it, back towards the sound of sirens, back towards the flashing neon lights of her guilt._

_Her blurred vision focused dimly on groups of huddled people as they leaned on each other, embracing, crying. Crying for what she had done, what she had caused. With their tears the fervent wish for it all to be a horrific twist in a terrible dream dissipated, and the full force of reality gripped like a huge fist around Naomi's stomach. Silently, and for the first time in her life, Naomi prayed. 'Please God, no.'_

_'Naomi!' Emily rushed from the crowd towards her, wrapping her warm body around her instantly, her face blackened with mascara streaks. 'Where were you?' Emily's gentle touch seared her skin._

_'Nowhere,' Naomi heard herself say. Her voice sounded strange to her as it floated on the cold air._

_Emily's grip around her tightened as she buried her head into the crook of Naomi's neck, her whole frame wracked with fear and shock._

_'I'm sorry,' Naomi said as she stroked her hand through Emily's hair, the bracing the full weight of her guilt as it threatened to make her collapse, 'I'm here now.'_

_She felt Emily nod against her shoulder. 'I just, can't stop picturing it,' Emily said, pulling back and wiping more tears from her big, trusting eyes, 'all that blood-'_

_'Shhh,' Naomi said thumbing a tear from Emily's cheek, 'Try not to think about it, okay?'_

_Emily sniffed and nodded, and Naomi took her tiny hand in her own, 'Come on, I'll get us a taxi.'_

_Naomi felt Emily let herself be led away. She raised numb hand into the air as they reached the edge of the pavement and a taxi pulled towards them. Gently, Naomi ushered Emily into the back seat before following and banging the door shut. The muffled sirens faded as the taxi drove away. Naomi fumbled in her pockets for money. Her fist clenched around crumpled notes, and she swallowed. Pulling them out of her pocket, it seemed they were drenched in dark red blood._

_'Do you have enough?' Emily asked, as Naomi stared at the money._

_'Hmm? Oh ... yeah. Plenty.'_

_She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead, her face blank, her eyes empty. She wasn't going to shed a single tear. Emily was going to cry enough for both of them._

_..._

Naomi still had dreams about that night. And about the tumultuous days that followed it. She had changed then, in those few days. They had changed her. Her guilt, her sins, her tears, her love and her hate had thickened her skin. She made herself strong enough to face the world without Emily's forgiveness, and without her own.

She slumped down on a cold metal bollard, sighing and running a hand through her hair. Her breath steamed and swirled in the air.

'What the fuck?'

Naomi knew that voice. And she was certainly not pleased to hear it.

'Go home Katie,' Naomi said, not even looking up to check it was her.

'Don't tell me what to do, lezzer _bitch_,' she said, sitting down on the next bollard along. It was freezing against her backside, and she only just managed to internally retain the yelp the sensation of cold metal caused.

'Nice,' Naomi said, looking up this time, 'Homophobia's a great colour on you.'

'I'm not homophobic,' Katie argued as she perched unsteadily on the rounded surface, 'You're just a bitch who happens to be a lezzer. I'm being descriptive.'

'You might want to work on expanding your adjective bank.'

'Fine,' Katie huffed, 'Muff-munching twat-bag?'

'Few too many vagina synonyms in that one.'

'Just trying to stoop to your level.'

The girls exchanged a look, a ghost of a smirk passing between them.

'Why did you follow me?' Naomi asked flatly.

'Because you're being a knob,' Katie answered.

'Right, and you follow knobs wherever they lead you.'

'Pretty much,' Katie said, ignoring the intended meaning behind the comment. 'Look,' Katie said, 'I can't even pretend to begin to like you. But I love Emily. And for some fucked up reason you make her happy. So stop being a prick and messing her around.'

Naomi rolled her eyes, 'It's not that fucking simple Katie. You don't know.'

'Oh Jesus Christ, get over yourself Naomi. You shagged some freak in college when you were _meant_ to be shagging my sister. Then you fucked off. And now you're back and for some _implausible_ reason she's actually willing to look past all that and you're running again? Did I miss anything?'

'Well ... you ...' Naomi stuttered trying to scrape together a comeback, 'You missed out the part where you're a complete bitch.'

'Goes without saying.'

Naomi was shocked at Katie's throwaway self-deprecating comment. She had never really considered the knock-on effect any of this would have had to Katie. Katie made every effort to distract people from the fact she was actually compassionate. She shook her head.

'Look Katie, just leave me alone alright? I'm not interested in whatever you have to say. So why don't you and Emily just go back to your friendly neighbourhood drunk and tell some more hilarious stories about me.'

'_I_ told Nat those things about you. Not Emily.'

'It doesn't matter,' Naomi sighed. 'I'll always live with it. Emily shouldn't have to live with it too.'

Katie rolled her eyes, 'Jesus Naomi, you love playing the fucking martyr don't you.'

Naomi scowled.

An awkward silence rolled on past the two girls as they perched on their bollards, heavy, metal chain strung across the gap between them.

It was Naomi that spoke first. 'Did she ever, you know ... talk to you about what happened?'

Katie shrugged, 'Not really,' she answered. 'Mostly she just cried.'

Naomi dropped her gaze. 'Right,' she managed to say, 'of course.'

Katie noticed the effect of her words. She almost felt bad, and whilst she didn't feel compelled to leave her isolated bollard, she thought she had to offer some words of kindness if she wanted to get Naomi onside, 'Look Naomi, you did something stupid. I don't want to know why, I really don't care. Emily got over it. But she never got over the fact that you left.'

Naomi looked up quizzically.

'You never fought for her,' Katie continued. 'You just left. It crushed her. Don't you realise?'

Naomi's heart felt like it had stopped beating.

'You made her think she wasn't worth fighting for.'

'That's not why ...' Naomi tried to say, 'I thought I was ... I did what I thought was right.'

'Yeah well Naomi, big surprise. You thought wrong,' came the unsympathetic reply. 'So if you're going to fucking leave her again, I suggest you do it now, and never ever come within ten miles of me or my family, because I will _fuck you up_. If you're actually going to grow a pair, then come with me.'

Katie hopped down from the bollard, the cold night air feeling comparatively warm against her cold thighs, and walked away.

Naomi sat on the metal, watching Katie's from retreating into the night. She looked around briefly as if waiting for an instruction from an onlooker. Eventually she sighed, pushing herself up and dropping to the floor, setting out after Katie.

* * *

Emily watched the swaying drunk as she swerved unnervingly close to the edge of the water.

'Nat, come away from there, yeah?' she said, rushing up to her and catching hold of her arm.

Nat pulled away from her grasp. 'I'm fine,' she muttered as she moved away.

Emily backed off, but kept a wary eye on the girl.

'I'm sorry,' Nat mumbled, looking sheepishly in Emily's direction. 'For what I said to your girlfriend.'

'She's not my girlfriend,' Emily corrected her.

'Well, whatever she is. I'm sorry.'

Emily sighed, 'It's okay ... I guess.'

Nat smiled a very small smile. 'I just ... I don't know why you'd be with someone like that. Someone who'd do that to you.'

Emily watched as Nat took a step closer to her.

'I'd never do that to you,' she said quietly.

'We can't help who we love,' Emily said sadly.

'I know,' Nat replied, equally sadly.

The girls looked at each other for a moment, before Emily broke the gaze to look around anxiously for any sign of her sister and Naomi, 'Fuck's sake ... I shouldn't have let Katie go after her.' She glanced nervously into the river to see if either of them had ended up floating downstream.

'Don't worry,' Came Nat's slurring words of reassurance, 'Katie only wants what's best for you. She'd do anything for you.'

'That's what I'm afraid of,' Emily admitted, glancing at the river again.

'Emily?' Nat asked.

'Yeah?'

'I really hope you two work it out. I'm sorry for what I said.'

Emily smiled at the genuine words. Katie was right, Nat was a lovely girl. And she would have been good for her. 'Thanks,' she replied, and the two girls briefly embraced. When Emily felt Nat cling to her for a little too long, she pulled away and turned to watch for when Naomi reappeared.

* * *

'Naomi ...' Katie said uncertainly, looking concernedly at the blonde girl as she stood , frozen to the spot, her gaze fixed on the figures beside the water. 'It's not like that. Emily doesn't like Nat like that,' she rushed to defend her sister.

Naomi pursed her lips. She knew this feeling; this feeling that spread from somewhere in her stomach out through every vein and capillary like a poison; the feeling that drained all colour from her face and extinguished all light from her eyes. The same feeling that had seeped icily through her when a pilled-up, doped-up Emily had taken a stranger in her arms at their barbeque, spinning her round and kissing her, pulling her closer. It was the feeling that made her realise she had to run. She couldn't stand it. She told herself she was doing it for Emily, to keep from damaging her any further. But really, she did it to protect herself. She couldn't handle Emily's rejection, despite flinging her own so readily and so repeatedly in Emily's face. She was selfish. And she was scared.

She let her gaze linger on the embracing women for just half a second longer, and then, frowning with the determination of not crying, Naomi turned away. The marina stretched out behind her as she walked numbly along the dock, fists clenched, eyes front. It wasn't supposed to end like this. This was meant to be her shot at redemption. But somehow, somewhere along the line, she wasn't deemed worthy.

Katie sighed in exasperation as Naomi once again abandoned the scene, and then glanced over to her sister, who was moving towards her, her confused expression becoming clearer as she drew nearer. Katie frowned in determination. 'Right.'


	17. Chapter 17

**Okay, I know Naomi was really irritating in that last chapter. But she is quite irritating. In a loveable way, obviously. I love that so many of you reply with such in depth reviews, not necessarily in terms of length (size isn't everything), but definitely in terms of content and character observation. I'm trying to be as true to the characters as I can, and to me it seemed a realistic thing for Naomi to do at the end of that last chapter.**

**Anyway, only another couple of chapters to go. Hope you stick with me to the end, I wouldn't have had the confidence to carry on this far without you guys :)**

**Thank you everyone for your continuous support.**

**Have a nice day**

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Her feet pounded against the hard, cold ground. Their steady hammering was all she could hear, save for her breath, which escaped in jolting puffs to the rhythm of her sprint. Her shoes had been dispensed with, their high heels rendering them entirely inappropriate for running, and her bare feet stung more with each stroke against the unsympathetic ground.

'Emily for fuck's sake!' Katie panted as she finally reached her front door, only to have it slammed in her face. She pushed it forcefully open before Emily had time to fiddle with the lock on the other side. 'Jesus Em will you just listen?' Katie demanded as she shut the door behind her, victorious.

'No,' Emily said, turning from her sister and stomping up the stairs, 'I'm done listening to you Katie.' Emily turned halfway up the stairs to look down at her, '_Emily you're not gay, Emily_ _go out with Nat, Emily come to this wanker's party with me, Emily stop pining after that Campbell bitch, Emily let _ME_ go after her I'll sort it out,'_ Emily listed in what Katie felt was a very poor imitation of her voice.

'Em I was trying to-'

'I've had _enough_ Katie,' Emily announced. 'You're not in charge of me. Whatever you were trying or want to try next just … don't. Okay? Try that.' Emily turned and continued up the remaining stairs. She slammed the door to her room shut with a violent bang. Emily was aware that storming away into your bedroom was slightly less effective when said room was shared with the person you were storming away from, but when Katie followed her in silently and did nothing more that lie down on her own bed and turn to face the wall, Emily felt that her point had been made.

* * *

Breakfast was very often a silent meal.

Any distraction was welcome. Rob Fitch's distraction of choice was usually the sports section of the Daily Mail, a paper that was for all intensive purposes evil, as far as Emily was concerned. Fortunately, the more blatant propaganda of the main bulk of the paper was often left discarded on the table, Rob Fitch's hunger for updates on current affairs resting solely within the football headlines. He would occasionally laugh or mutter to himself, or sometimes to Jenna, who would smile in agreement as if she understood what was so funny.

Jenna herself was often busy at the sink, washing cups, plates and bowls vigorously in an effort to make everything perfectly clean and shiny before she had to leave for work.

Emily's distraction was usually whatever she was eating. But today her cereal had been left to go limp and soggy in its bowl of milk as she spooned it disinterestedly from side to side.

Katie stared at her from over the rim of her glass of orange juice.

'Don't you want to know what I said to her?' Katie asked suddenly, causing Emily to drop her spoon noisily into the bowl. Drops of milk flecked the back of her dad's paper. Unfazed, he licked the pad of his thumb and turned the page.

'No,' Emily replied, picking up the spoon again and swilling the milk around.

'Do you want to know what she said to me?' Katie asked.

Emily stopped stirring for a moment before answering, 'No.'

'Don't you want to know that she's still in love with you?' Katie asked.

A loud clattering in the sink momentarily caught the girls' attention.

'You alright there love?' Rob asked, looking away from his paper.

Jenna smiled reassuringly at her husband before shooting Emily a look.

'If she loved me why did she run off?' Emily asked, setting down her spoon at the side of the bowl.

'Because you were all over Nat!' Katie explained.

Jenna turned her attention back to the sink, running the tap in the hope that the sound of gushing water would drown out the information she would rather not hear.

'I was not!' Emily argued. 'It was one little hug!'

Katie shrugged.

'Naomi ran off because of that?' Emily asked incredulously.

Jenna whipped back around at the mention of the name.

Katie shrugged again.

Emily rolled her eyes, 'For fuck's sake.'

'Emily! Language!' Jenna scolded.

'It's okay Mum,' James said, looking up from his toast, 'We say fuck all the time at school. Sometimes as an expletive to express anger or disappointment, and sometimes to describe the act of sexual intercourse. It's a very versatile word, fuck. Though I was told if I use it in an essay again, I'm looking at a two week suspension.'

Jenna's nostrils flared, 'James!' she chastised, 'Rob, are you hearing this?'

Rob folded his paper down to look from his son to his wife. 'Two weeks suspension for writing 'fuck' in an essay?' he clarified, 'Bloody ridiculous is that. I'm telling you, the tossers in that school don't know how the hell to run it.'

Exasperated, Emily stood up. She placed her bowl and spoon next to her mother at the sink. 'I'm going to work,' she told her.

'Emily,' Jenna grabbed her by the arm with a soapy gloved hand. 'You're not seeing that dreadful girl again are you?'

Emily sighed, 'That _dreadful girl_ who gave you a home when you had nowhere else to go?'

Jenna baulked at the mention, 'The same girl who made your life a misery, Emily.'

Emily merely rolled her eyes and left the room.

* * *

Naomi stirred beneath her duvet. Facing the opposite direction, she flung a hand behind her and groped around blindly for the phone on her nightstand. After sending several less valuable items clattering to the floor she gripped the phone and brought it to her face. She regarded the messages on the screen blearily. Five missed calls, all from Emily.

Naomi rolled onto her back. The prospect of being hounded by Emily Fitch made her feel momentarily nostalgic, until she remembered what she had seen last night, and that every call was probably to apologise for leading her on in the first place. Naomi wondered briefly if Emily had felt like this in college; if she had made Emily feel like this. Rejected, despite everything. The one difference between them was, Emily had never given up. Not even when it was too hard to bear.

Naomi rolled onto her side again. Maybe Emily was just a better person, with a bigger heart.

The phone buzzed dramatically in her hand, and Naomi stared blankly as Emily's name flashed on the screen.

* * *

Emily's sanctuary offered her no asylum.

Emily found herself glancing towards the library doors every five minutes, or looking up anxiously the second somebody new walked in.

None of them were her.

Emily frowned. In essence, that was always the problem. She looked for Naomi in everyone, finding herself surprised when she delved a little deeper and found they were always entirely different. Maybe she had always been waiting for Naomi to come back to her. Yet four years on and Naomi still took flight at the slightest hint of conflict.

Emily shook her head.

That girl created her own disasters, leaving wreckage left and right.

Flicking her head up again at the sound of the door opening, Emily sighed as she saw it was Katie, moving briskly towards her.

'What do you want?' Emily asked.

'Lovely to see you too,' Katie replied with a pleasant smile.

Emily rolled her eyes.

'If you carry on like that, I won't give it back,' Katie threatened.

'Give what back?'

'What you left at the house this morning.'

Emily frowned, scanning her memory to try and work out what Katie was referring to.

'Whatever it is, just give it,' she sighed.

'Not unless you ask nicely.'

'Fine … please give it back Katie.'

Katie's hand paused its way inside her bag, '… and?'

'And I'm sorry for … being a bitch yesterday,' Emily mumbled grumpily.

Katie nodded her approval and reached into her bag, retrieving a phone and placing it into Emily's open palm.

Emily looked from to phone to her sister. 'Have you called anyone on this?'

Katie looked hurt, 'Ugh, as if I would. Why would I want to call a bunch of horny lesbians?'

Emily narrowed her eyes at her sister, 'Yeah, because that's all my phonebook comprises of.' Emily tapped buttons on the keypad, opening the recent calls folder of the phone, 'I mean it Katie, if you've called anyone-'

'Oh that's right!' Katie said cheerfully, 'I did make a few hour-long calls to China. I didn't think you'd mind. They had the weirdest seven digit area code. Oh well, I know they have psychic hotlines in this country but I only trust the Chinese ones.'

'Okay, ha-ha,' Emily said. '... Thanks for bringing it in then.'

Katie smiled and left, winking at a tall male student on her way out who appeared to be enjoying the view.

As Emily set the phone down to the side of her computer, it buzzed with a new text message.

* * *

Sometimes you have to make a choice.

Naomi walked briskly along the sun-flooded street, clutching her phone in her hand.

Sometimes letting things happen around you isn't enough.

Emily closed down her computer and checked the clock on the wall.

Sometimes you want something too much to watch it be taken away.

Naomi leaned back against the wall to light up a cigarette, inhaling deeply in an effort to calm herself.

It's so easy to do nothing.

Emily punched the security code into the alarm system by the library doors

To do nothing and to die having done nothing.

Naomi pushed back her hair from her face as she dropped the fag end onto the pavement. It bounced several times, the end flickering orange like a faulty street lamp, before turning grey and falling as ash to the floor.

To do nothing until you become nothing.

Emily checked the time again on her phone, and quickened her pace along the street.

Sometimes you do get hurt.

Naomi slowed to a halt outside the pub. She checked up and down the street, peered in through the grimy pub windows, and scanned the picnic benches of the beer garden.

And sometimes, it's worth it.

Emily saw her, looking frantically around her, as if she thought she was being hunted, terrified of being caught.

Naomi's jerking head movements stopped as she caught sight of Emily. One corner of her mouth flicked up into an uncertain smile. 'Hi,' she said, before biting down on her lower lip.

Emily ran a nervous hand through her hair, 'Hi.'

'So what did you want to talk about?' The two girls asked, in exact unison.

A moment of confused silence followed.

'What?' They asked, again in unison.

Naomi frowned. 'You told me we had to talk,' she said.

'No, you texted me to meet -' Emily began correcting, before closing her eyes and sighing. She shook her head. 'Katie.'

'Katie?'

'Katie had my phone this morning.'

'Oh. So you didn't-'

'No.'

Naomi looked at her left shoe, 'Okay well, I guess I'll see you around then?'

Emily placed a gentle hand on Naomi's arm, 'Come on, I'll get the first round in.'


	18. Chapter 18

**Okay guys, penultimate chapter here. Just so you know, I've never written anything of this ... er ... nature before, so profuse apologies if it's overdone or underdone or saggy in the middle or any other kind of cooking metaphor you can think of for poor writing. I'm always looking to improve so let me know what you think?**

**Thanks for sticking with me this far. It's been brilliant writing for you all :)**

**Have a nice day**

**

* * *

**

Naomi fiddled with the straw in her drink. The ice bobbed around half-heartedly, clinking against the side of the glass. A bead of condensation slid down the clear surface, pooling upon the wooden table.

'Naomi,' Emily said, causing the blonde to jump. Short of taking her drink order Emily had said very little else to her since entering the pub. 'That Nat girl. She's not ... we're not ...'

Naomi waited patiently for Emily to finish her sentence.

'Y'know.' Emily concluded.

'Having all the sex?' Naomi asked, before taking a sip through her straw.

Emily's eyes flitted around nervously and her cheeks flared red, 'Yeah. That. We're not together. We never were.'

'You looked like you were together,' Naomi challenged.

'Well we're not.'

''Kay.'

Emily waited for a more elaborate response.

Naomi took another sip of her drink.

'That's it? _'Kay'_ is all you're going to say?' Emily asked.

'What do you want me to say?'

'I don't know,' Emily flailed her hands dramatically, 'That's good? Or, I'm happy to hear that? Or ... something.'

'I'm happy to hear that.'

'You're just saying that because it means you don't have to think of anything yourself,' Emily muttered, folding her arms sulkily.

Naomi frowned, 'No actually, if I was to think of something myself it would be slight more original,' she argued. 'I'd say something like: You have _no _idea how much it means to me to hear that, because the thought of you with her, or anyone else for that matter, makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.'

Naomi paused to take a sip of her drink before continuing, 'And then I might say that I didn't want you to know that, because if she makes you happy then you should be with her, my gastronomic inclinations aside, because you deserve a thousand times over to be with someone who can do that for you.'

Naomi swallowed, her throat feeling tight and her eyes feeling hot. 'And if I was feeling really brave I might reveal that even as I'm looking at you right now I'm hoping that one day you might realise that it could be me. That I could make you happy. And everything that's happened right up to that fucking graduation ceremony has just been leading me right up to falling at your feet, and wondering if I could ever be that lucky twice in my life.'

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but instead just dropped her folded arms to her side and let her watering eyes release tears down her cheeks.

'And ... if I felt it was all going well and I was feeling particularly brave, I'd say how sorry I was for letting you down. And then I might argue that you gave up on me as well. But in the end I'd conclude that I only had myself to blame.'

Emily continued to say nothing, tears slipping down silently.

'But I thought, to save us both the bother,' Naomi added, 'I'd just stick with 'Kay.'

Emily snorted softly, wiping her eyes and finally speaking, 'You're such a prick Naomi.'

Naomi rolled her eyes, suppressing her own desire to start crying and fall into Emily's arms. 'Well you've always known that,' she said.

Emily reached for Naomi's hand across the table, gripping it with a force that surprised even herself.

And it was then that Naomi realised that everything that had happened in her life since that fateful last day of college, everywhere she'd been and everything she'd done, had just been another twist in the path that led her back to Emily. Her whole life, she'd been doing nothing but gradually returning to her side.

'You're done with that drink, right?' Emily asked.

Naomi regarded her half-full glass before nodding vigorously and being led swiftly out of the pub.

* * *

Naomi's room was mostly dark. And it was cool, like it was refrigerated from the heat outside. Warm orange evening sunlight flecked through the gaps in her drawn curtains, making it look like there were glowing fractures in the floor and walls.

Emily leant in towards Naomi, not closing her eyes until their lips touched. Naomi brushed her lips softly against Emily's, savouring how the lightest touch could prickle all of her senses. Their lips moved gently across each other, the tender deep-pink skin tingling from the contact.

Emily felt Naomi's hands slide up from her waist and round to her back, where they flexed against her ribs, demanding her closer. Emily's mouth lost its gentle caressing rhythm, her lips parting to take Naomi's bottom lip between her own.

Naomi's hands clutched at the shifting muscles of Emily's back when she felt her lip being sucked into Emily's hot mouth. She pulled Emily towards her, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue past Emily's gentle lips and into the smooth heat of her mouth. She felt Emily's moan in her own chest, where Emily was pushed right up against her, hands running roughly along the backs of her arms and up into her hair. When she felt Emily's tongue push back against her own, she felt her grip on the world around her slip away. Time, form, life all became instantly and imperceptibly replaced with feeling and tasting Emily.

Desperate hands wrenched Emily's clothing from her flushed body. The material twisted and snagged against her as Naomi pushed it up over her arms and head. The cooling air washed across her exposed skin as Naomi pressed endless kisses onto her neck and shoulders. Her lidded eyes dragged their gaze over Naomi, the way she moulded her long, lithe body to twist and curl against her. Of their own accord, her hands reached for the thin material barrier that kept Naomi's pale skin from touching her own. The material slipped and fell from her, and Emily trembled as Naomi's warmth permeated her own skin. She didn't even realise she was falling until her back touched upon the cool sheets of the bed beneath her.

Naomi immediately pressed herself down onto the girl below her, her mouth opening and sliding against the dark raised skin of Emily's breast, feeling the bones and muscles of her chest arch up to her as if magnetised. Her eyes trailed across Emily's writhing form, soft light dappling along the dips of her ribs, each dab of light swelling or decreasing with every sinewy flex of her taught body.

Emily felt the smooth dash of Naomi's hand across her abdomen to between her legs. Her thin delicate fingers felt like velvet as they were dragged agonizingly through the heat and wetness they found there. She heard herself cry out as Naomi pushed into her, the feeling of tight fullness flooding through her lower body. Her cry was absorbed by Naomi as she pushed long kisses against her open mouth as Emily pressed herself further and further onto Naomi's hand. Her chest heaved and she felt each pump of her heart course through her like an unbearable throb.

Emily's body rose a final time, hovering in place as she squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth taking in one last laboured breath before she contorted, closing and clenching everywhere around Naomi, crushing her into her, releasing and clutching her back again until she relaxed, every tiny fibre of her body releasing its hold of Naomi one by one. When she opened her eyes she saw Naomi gazing down at her, her eyes wide with love and wonder.

As Naomi steadied her own rapid breathing, she looked into the brown eyes of the girl beneath her, knowing that for all her denying, all her running, all her deceit, she'd never belonged to anyone else.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello :) Firstly, thank you so much for the positive feedback for the last chapter. I was hella nervous about the whole ordeal, but your kind words have put me at ease. **

**Also a few of you have said that you were sad this story was drawing to a close, but I wanted to leave the two main characters here, at the beginning of something. A bit like we saw them at the end of season 3. I'm not sure if this was the kind of ending people wanted/ expected, but I hope it gives some kind of closure. **

**This story was inspired by the song 'Coming back to you' by Leonard Cohen. Thank you, as always, for letting me tell it. Continue to be awesome.**

**Have a nice day**

**post-war**

...

It was nice to believe in something. Naomi's eyelids fluttered, gradually growing conscious of being closed. It made the world less real. Her eyes opened slowly, easing themselves from the darkness of sleep to the brightness of the morning. The world became a place of vague shapes and shifting colours and muffled sounds: safe and warm, where all threats and challenges could be combated with a single truth.

Naomi tried to breathe as gently as she could. Emily's weight was spread between both the body and the mattress beneath her, delicately poised between dreams and reality, her mouth open slightly, her hair trailing across her closed eyes.

Naomi had always trusted her own truth. She had always been hyper-aware of what she wanted, what she should avoid, pitilessly calculating whether the energy something required was greater than its outcome, like a shark debating whether the attack is worth the meal, sensing the calories in the water. She had learntthat no one else could be depended on. She was her own protector, teacher and leader. It was always her answer. When the world grew cruel and cold, it had given her comfort.

But the world hadn't warmed. And she had remained alone.

Blinking in the bright light, Naomi knew this belief had been the sole creator of her own personal cage. All of her actions in its name had merely succeeded in locking her up more securely. She had trapped herself, and found that kicking and mewling and lashing out in frustration at the bars only made it worse.

Naomi smiled as Emily stirred in her sleep. Emily knew. She had always known. From the first time she saw her, Emily had noticed her waiting and weaving at the gate to be set free.

'I should probably thank you,' Naomi had told Katie, passing her on the pavement a few days ago.

'Probably,' she had replied, squinting up at Naomi silhouetted against the sun.

A moment had passed.

A group of students had bustled past between them, chatting eagerly about camping. How much they should spend on food; if Carlsberg was on offer at Tesco's.

'So … thanks,' Naomi said. 'I don't know why you helped me. You don't even like me.'

Katie had scoffed, 'I didn't do it for you.'

'I know,' Naomi had answered quickly, embarrassed for assuming.

'Yeah ... er ... you're welcome,' Katie's face softened for a beat, then tensed back up again. 'You know what I'll do if you fuck it up again don't you?'

Naomi fought down the fighting talk that tried to spring out at Katie, '… Yeah.'

'Okay then.'

It was nice. No pressure to succeed, just the promise of payback.

That seemed fair.

'Naomi,' Katie had added, even though Naomi was already walking away.

Naomi stopped.

'Good luck.'

Of course, luck had never had anything to do with it. There were things she regretted that she had spent years trying not to regret. But in the end they had eaten away at her, leaving her stripped down to her core, facing her own truth, her own lies, and the girl who weaved somewhere in between them. And now she was weightless.

As Naomi lay still, piecing together the parts of her life that seemed to splinter and reconnect to create this moment, the morning light illuminated the tiny thin hairs on the arm Emily had draped across Naomi's stomach.

Safe and warm.

Real.

She felt Emily's heart beat against her body, and saw the skin jumping as the blood beneath the surface surged and receded. Chaotic and fragile, just like life.

Just like love.

* * *

Emily's sleeves were rolled up, and her face was determined. She had attacked the first few unkempt piles with a vigour that Naomi couldn't seem to ignite within herself. But as she started on the next one, even Emily's energy was appearing to dwindle.

Naomi lolled lethargically upon the bed, watching as Emily tried to separate items from her room into organised heaps and bags. Naomi's tenancy of her student accommodation was ending in under a week, and Emily had decided that if she was ever going to move out on time they needed to make a start on clearing away the traces of Naomi's disordered life.

'So ... all this stuff,' Emily had asked before she had begun, gesturing at the endless piles of assorted items 'Is it in any particular order? Like ... stuff to keep, stuff to bin ...'

Naomi regarded the mess from her relaxed position on the bed. 'Sure,' she said. 'This stuff here,' she pointed to a stack of writing pads and text books, 'Is stuff to keep. And this stuff here,' she motioned to the entirety of the rest of the room, 'Is ... um ... miscellaneous.'

Emily had rolled her eyes. Secretly, she adored rummaging through Naomi's possessions. It was fascinating, really, what she had deemed worthy of keeping. It gave her an insight into a life she wasn't a part of. That little sliver of Naomi that she didn't have the chance to know. Despite the years and the lives that had passed between them, Naomi still was, essentially, Emily's favourite subject. She tugged at a loose elastic thread, freeing a card-mounted life-size image of David Cameron's face with the eyes cut out. She raised an eyebrow and presented it questioningly to Naomi.

'Halloween costume,' Naomi told her, by way of explanation.

Emily face took on an expression of amused acknowledgment before she returned to her work.

'Why don't you stop doing that for a bit, yeah Ems?' Naomi suggested. 'You're getting all ... blurry.'

'It's not going to tidy itself,' Emily pointed out.

'Really?' Naomi asked, sarcasm flaring, 'You mean this isn't a Disney movie?'

Emily rolled her eyes, 'Stuff never tidies itself in a Disney movie. Little woodland creatures come in and do it.'

'... oh yeah,' Naomi thought better than to comment upon Emily's likeness to a little woodland creature. She merely kept quiet and internalised her concern for how large the stuff-to-bin pile was in comparison to the stuff-to-keep one.

'Are you going to help?' Emily asked Naomi after a while.

Naomi sat up slightly straighter on the bed. 'I'd only make things more difficult.'

'No you wouldn't.'

'No really, I'd make it my business to,' and with that Naomi slumped back against her pillows and watched Emily strategically pick her life apart. She felt her lips curling into a smile. A breeze came into the room from an open window high up, carrying with it sounds of traffic and the smell of petrol and trees and the world beyond the walls of her house. It was the only reminder Naomi had that it still existed.

She watched Emily's hands flicker busily over her possessions. They stilled as they clasped around the small hard-backed scrap book of Mexico. Naomi met Emily's gaze. 'Keep it,' she answered Emily's unasked question. 'It's yours.'

Emily placed the book delicately in her shoulder bag and returned to her work. She began dragging the wooden hamper at the end of Naomi's bed round to the other side of the room near the window.

'What are you doing?' Naomi asked. 'You're messing up my ... arrangement.'

Emily paused mid-drag and stood up straight to look at Naomi, aware that nothing in Naomi's room had anything to do with any kind of calculated composition. 'This thing is taking up loads of room,' she told her. 'You don't use it, and if you put it over here it means you can use this part of your room.'

Naomi blinked. 'You know I'm moving out in five days don't you?'

Apparently that wasn't the point, and Emily told her so.

'Fine,' Naomi said, leaning back on her outstretched arms, 'But I'd better see you using that bit of unusable floor-space in the next five days,' she gestured to the newly uncovered patch of carpet. 'I'd better see you rolling around in it.'

Emily looked at her, a smirk growing on her face.

'I didn't mean it like that,' Naomi quickly clarified, feeling the heat swelling in her cheeks.

'Shame,' was all Emily said in reply.

Naomi rolled her eyes, 'Aw go on then ... maybe I did,' she said as she shuffled off the bed.

It wasn't the most romantic offer Emily had ever been made, but the way Naomi slid her arms around Emily's waist, cradling her like she was made of glass, and then kissed her softly, sinking with her to the floor, she didn't need the words.

* * *

The train ride back to Bristol had been made very uncomfortable by the sheer volume of luggage she and Naomi had carted from her student house to take back home. All of those endless stacks of belongings Emily had painstakingly sorted through in Naomi's room had somehow been packed into a total of five bin bags and two suitcases.

'Tea?' Naomi asked, almost reflexively as they got into the house.

Emily nodded, dropping a black bag down next to the stairs, ignoring the ominous crashing sound it made and following Naomi into the living room. She sat down on the sofa. It was spongy and worn, the kind of furniture that's very difficult to get up from. She chose not to lean back into the soft back rest, perching instead elegantly on the edge of the seat cushions. She listened to Naomi clatter around in the kitchen, smiling to herself at how quickly the soft cursing commenced as Naomi became increasingly frustrated at her own inability to locate the appropriate crockery.

The sound of the bubbling kettle made Emily feel comforted, and she relaxed her tensed shoulders. She looked around the room. She knew this house so well. She would sometimes even dream about it. Her dreams would be of a simpler, more innocent time when she used to stay here; when Naomi's house, Naomi's room and Naomi herself became a safe haven from the disagreeable world. It wasn't until Naomi moved out that she realised it wasn't the world that needed to be kept at bay.

She heard the kettle click off the boil, and fumbled with her fingers in anticipation of Naomi re-entering the room. This was where she should be. She knew that.

Back in the house where it all started.

Back to the source.

Back where she could almost feel her own love for Naomi residing within the walls. It seemed strange, but Emily needed strength to give in to Naomi.

Strength to begin again.

Naomi crashed inelegantly into the room with a tray carrying two steaming mugs and a plate of biscuits. The tea slopped over the rims of the mugs as Naomi brought the tray across the room to set it down on the table. Emily smiled at Naomi's clumsy, hap-hazard actions causing things to tip-up and spill. She knew Naomi would probably always be that way. And she knew that every time such self-induced chaos erupted within her life, Naomi would remain standing in the middle of it, mildly bewildered as to why everything was crashing down around her.

Naomi looked up slightly apologetically as she sat next to Emily, regarding the amount of tea that was now swimming around in the tray. Naomi held Emily's gaze, her eyes conveying the words she didn't need to voice. 'I'm a fucking mess, Emily. If you love me, that's your fault.'

Emily leaned in and kissed Naomi gently on the nose. She allowed herself to settle back into the cushions of the sofa. 'I know, I've always known,' she thought, gently taking Naomi's hand in her own. Closing her eyes she felt Naomi lean back as well, settling warmly into her side. She smiled to herself, wondering if she'd do it all again if she had the chance to start from scratch, knowing the answer instantly. After all, where would she go if not here? Who would she be if she wasn't here right now, squeezing Naomi's hand, and feeling her squeeze back.

...


	20. Epilogue

**I guess I just felt like writing this. **

**EPILOGUE  
**

The rain was making her hand cold and slippery but she refused to let it retreat into the sheltered warmth of her pocket. Besides, Emily was clinging on so tight that she didn't think she could let go even if she wanted to. They'd walked the whole way mostly in silence, only speaking to argue about who should be holding the umbrella: they'd established that Naomi held it too high and caused Emily to get rained on, but Emily held it so low that it repeatedly hit Naomi in the head.

'Right, that's it,' Naomi said, snatching the umbrella from her girlfriend's grip. 'We're going to have to break up. We're totally incompatible heights for wet weather.'

'Give it here,' Emily argued, trying to snatch it back. In the ensuing struggle the metal pole of the umbrella managed to once again smack against the side of Naomi's head.

'I swear to god Emily,' Naomi warned, rubbing her temple as she leant away to keep the umbrella just beyond the shorter girl's reach. As she presented it brazenly up to the sky, a strong gust of wind, that sent rain angrily in their direction, swung the vulnerable umbrella even further back, flicking it inside-out with minimal effort, breaking the knuckles of its metal skeleton with a brief flap and a series of clicks.

'Oh ... _perfect_,' Naomi said, bringing the umbrella back down to eye-level and running her fingers along its dislocated joints. They splayed pitifully under her inspection. 'This is your fault,' she told Emily.

Emily rolled her eyes. 'Will you just relax?'

'Me?' Naomi asked incredulously, '_You_ relax!'

'Right let's just ...' Emily held up her hands in surrender, 'take some deep breaths and focus.'

'Jesus Christ,' Naomi sighed, watching as Emily closed her eyes and inhaled slowly in an effort to compose herself. She fiddled awkwardly with the collar of her shirt, picking at the way it constricted her neck. 'God I'm so uncomfortable,' she grumbled. 'Remind me again why I had to dress like a moron for this?'

Emily opened her eyes, her cathartic breathing interrupted. 'I said dress smart, not _moronic_,' she reminded Naomi. 'I just don't want to give Jenna any more ammunition than she already has.' Emily had recently taken to referring to her mother by her Christian name. Naomi put it down to a conscious decision to directly remove herself from Jenna's genealogy – something that proved rather difficult, considering they were on their way to Emily's birthday celebrations at her parents' house.

The house itself seemed blank and impassive through the rainy haze, solid and dark against the grey sky. Naomi inspected it cautiously as they approached. It almost looked deserted, its outward impression devoid of light and movement; its windows dull, unseeing eyes into empty rooms and inhabitation finding representation only in the cars parked outside.

Naomi had been dreading the occasion ever since Emily had told her they were going, which had only been two days ago, deliberately leaving Naomi little time to mobilise a legitimate reason for not attending. 'For fuck's sake,' Naomi muttered as the thought of conversing with Jenna for the first time since college made her stomach sink. 'Why did you have to be born?' she whined as Emily threaded their fingers together and began to drag her towards the front of the house.

Emily sighed. Naomi's reluctance to see her parents was doing nothing to subdue her own feelings of dread. 'I don't know why we have to have a stupid family meal anyway,' she complained as Naomi's pace fell completely out of rhythm with her own in her effort to hang back. 'She always has to make such a big deal of everything,' she continued. 'I wish she was more like your Mum.'

Naomi scoffed audibly. 'My Mum?' she repeated scornfully. 'The woman who continues to insist that chamomile tea cures baldness?' she asked as Emily pulled her towards the front door.

Naomi dropped the umbrella on the drive outside. Emily watched it fall, and then looked back up to Naomi as she pressed her finger hard against the doorbell. 'Don't just leave it there,' she ordered.

Naomi looked down. 'Ems, it's broken.'

'It's littering.'

'Well,_ technically_ it's fly-tipping ...'

'Naomi,' Emily warned, and Naomi sighed with petulant exasperation and stooped down to pick up the obsolete equipment.

The door opened as she stood back up. 'You're late,' Katie said, scanning the pair of them disapprovingly. 'God, look at you ... are you _trying_ to wind Mum up?' she asked as they pushed past her through the door.

'What do you mean?' Emily asked as she shrugged off her coat and let it crumple soggily to the floor.

'Well for a start would it have killed you to put on a pair of heels?' Katie asked, dropping her derisive gaze to Emily's footwear. 'You know how she feels about you dressing like a big old dyke.'

'How is _this_ dykey?' Emily demanded in a harsh whisper, gesturing to herself.

Katie merely stared at her as if she was an unflushed specimen in a bathroom stall.

Emily rolled her eyes. 'OK, what can I borrow?' she asked, resigning to Katie's superior intuition when it came to Jenna's reactions.

'Follow me,' Katie told her, grabbing the banister to haul herself up the stairs.

'You can't leave me here!' Naomi said, catching hold of Emily's forearm in desperation, anxiously glancing through the hallway towards the dining room and its ominous flickering shadows of inhabitation.

'I'll be, like, two seconds Naoms,' Emily assured her, trying to gently brush away Naomi's hand, resorting to yanking it forcefully out of her grip when she didn't respond to the subtle coaxing.

'Yeah, grow a pair _Naoms_,' Katie echoed childishly.

Naomi narrowed her eyes at the two pairs of legs that scurried up the stairs, snapping her head back to the hallway at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Jenna approached with the slow, calculated caution of a predator, and Naomi felt her body stiffen reflexively under her scrutiny. 'Hello Naomi,' Jenna said, slowly, through the unnerving smile of someone who was well practised at feigning politeness. She stopped advancing and remained perfectly still, poised and unmoving, as if every muscle was tensed.

Naomi glanced uncertainly back up the stairs before answering. 'Hello Jenna'. There was a short, awkward pause in which Naomi heard the excitable cadences of Katie's voice from upstairs. 'Thanks for inviting me.'

'Not at all,' Jenna said. 'It's good to see ... both of you. I hardly ever see Emily these days ...' she stopped talking to let out a few notes of forced, nervous laughter before continuing, 'It's good to have all the family back under one roof.' Naomi half-smiled before looking down at her shoes. She couldn't remember herself the last time Emily had been back to her own house.

'You haven't come on your own have you?' Jenna voiced her concern, peering behind Naomi to count the number of coats hung upon the hooks.

'Oh ... no,' Naomi said. 'Emily just ... went to pee.'

Jenna's expression wavered momentarily as if she didn't know how to respond to the information, before she restored her smile and jerkily gestured to the room behind her. 'Well come on through. I'm sure she'll be able to find us.'

Naomi cast another desperate glance towards the stairs before following.

. . .

'So what have you been so busy doing that you can't pick up the phone?' Katie asked, watching as Emily hitched a skirt up her thighs and fastened it at her hips.

'You really want me to answer that?' Emily asked, accepting a crumpled top from Katie's hands and tugging it roughly over her head.

Katie pulled a repulsed face. 'Right.' She turned away to look over at Emily's side of the room. Her bed was untouched, still strewn with the discarded clothing items from a previous visit that were not deemed worthy of relocation to Naomi's house.

Emily caught a glimpse of her sister's expression as she emerged through the head-hole of the vest. 'I'm sorry,' she said, smoothing out her hair. 'I guess I have been kind of distant.'

'It's cool,' Katie shrugged. 'Just wondered if you were dead or something.'

Emily shook her head. 'No, not dead,' she confirmed as Katie handed her the left then the right of a pair of shoes she almost certainly wouldn't be able to walk down the stairs in.

'So what did you want to tell me?' Emily asked as she hooked the shoes onto her feet with her index finger.

'What?'

'When you called,' Emily clarified. 'Was there something you needed to tell me?'

Katie frowned like it was a ridiculous question. 'Jesus Christ Em, you're not the CEO of Microsoft you know. I don't have to _need to tell you something_ to talk to you. I'm your sister - we shared a womb for fuck's sake.'

'Alright, sorry,' Emily conceded, wobbling unsteadily on the spindly heels of Katie's shoes. 'Just checking.'

. . .

'Help yourself to the asparagus mousse Naomi,' Jenna offered, pushing the barely indented pile of green pulp closer to Naomi's plate.

' ... Thanks,' Naomi hesitantly accepted, spooning the mixture uncertainly onto her plate. The array of food had been bizarre, both in colour and texture – the coarse, fibrous, mildly indigestible food of the over health-conscious. Naomi hadn't been bold in her selection, not entirely sure what was food and what was just misguided table decor, cautious to not help herself to handfuls of potpourri. No wonder the twins had grown up so petite if this was the diet they'd had to thrive on.

James shook his head defiantly when she pushed the plate on towards him. 'I'm not touching that shite,' he assured her.

The comment was courteously ignored.

'So Naomi,' Rob said, taking a moment to eye the asparagus mousse with equal mistrust. 'Emsy tells us you're a journalist.'

'Yeah,' Naomi answered. 'Just freelance stuff at the moment, but it'll pick up. You know everyone's just crawling to employ freshly graduated interns with zero experience.'

Naomi's sarcasm was met with silence, punctuated only by a small, elegant cough from Jenna.

'I'm sure you'll be beatin' them off with a stick,' Rob told her good-naturedly.

Naomi smiled at him graciously before glancing towards the doorway in hopeful anticipation of the twins' return.

'When Katie came out of college I afforded her a job with the family firm,' Jenna announced loudly.

Naomi turned her attention back to the table.

'Not major roles, but basic administration tasks ... to keep her focused,' Jenna elaborated. 'To get her mind off _shoes_, and _facebook_, and _boys – '_ Jenna abruptly stopped listing things.

Naomi fought down a smirk.

'What does _your_ mother do, Naomi?' Jenna asked pointedly.

Naomi looked down at her fork. 'She ... er ... makes trousers out of hemp.'

'To sell?' Rob asked.

'No ... to wear.'

There was a pause. 'Well that's ... lovely,' Jenna acknowledged, casting her own hopeful gaze at the door.

At the sound of syncopated footsteps from the stairway the whole room seemed to heave a collected sigh of relief. 'Here come the birthday girls,' Rob beamed as Emily and Katie emerged through the doorway. Emily took her seat next to Naomi, squeezing her hand reassuringly as she sat down.

'Twenty-three, ay?' Rob announced, shaking his head as if the maths confounded him. He leant back in his chair to gaze at them adoringly. 'Only seems like yesterday you's two were in nappies.'

'Yeah, thanks Dad,' Katie said, trying to thwart the imminent fatherly indulgence of embarrassing memories before it could really get going.

'And now look at you,' Rob continued, oblivious to Kate's discomfort. 'All grown up, mature, professional ...'

'Shacked up with a girl,' James added.

'James,' Jenna scolded, lightly thwacking him on the back of the head.

Naomi glanced uneasily at Emily, whose expression had also sobered.

But Katie spoke over the awkward silence that followed. 'Jesus, Mum, don't hit the poor twat. It's not like it's news or anything.'

'I just don't think it's an appropriate subject for the dinner table,' Jenna said in a quiet, cautionary tone.

Katie rolled her eyes and stabbed her fork angrily through a stick of raw celery.

Naomi felt herself feeling uncharacteristically warm towards Katie in that moment; a feeling that quickly dissipated when Katie tetchily asked what the hell she was staring at.

'Emily, there's some birthday cards for you in the kitchen,' Jenna said. 'I've kept them separate from the rest of your post. There's so much of it I was worried they'd get mixed up.'

'OK,' Emily said, trying to ascertain if there was any further meaning behind the seemingly innocuous comment. 'Thanks.'

'Some of the post looks quite urgent,' Jenna continued. 'You probably should have picked it up before now.'

Emily fidgeted awkwardly in her seat. 'Yeah, sorry ... I've just been busy.'

'Oh?' Jenna feigned interest. 'What's been keeping you so occupied?' she asked.

'Just ... stuff,' Emily answered, catching Katie's eye. 'And I've been helping Gina out around the house a lot. Cooking and cleaning, you know.'

'And Gina would be?'

'My Mum,' Naomi answered. 'Gina's my Mum.'

Jenna nodded slowly. 'I see.' She set her knife and fork down delicately. 'Well it's nice that you're spending so much time with her. She must need an awful _lot_ of help,' she speculated.

Emily chose not to respond to the comment.

'No offense Naomi,' Jenna added, unconvincingly.

Naomi shrugged. 'No, you're right. She does.'

Jenna dabbed her lips daintily with her serviette. 'Anyway, it would hardly be a birthday without a cake would it?' she asked, pursing her lips into a terse smile as she stood and leaving for the kitchen.

Emily sighed heavily as soon as she was out of earshot. 'You'd think she'd at least make an effort wouldn't you?' she muttered.

Katie frowned. 'Er, hello? That _was_ her making an effort. She's been on at me all week about whether Naomi has any food allergies. Like I know or care.'

Emily raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'Really?'

'Really. So appreciate it, yeah?' Katie answered quickly as Jenna returned. 'She, like ... misses you and stuff.'

Naomi, listening to the hushed whispers, wondered briefly what that was like – to be loved so fiercely by your family everyone was so profoundly affected by everything you did, or didn't do. All she knew was that until she met Emily, her life had just been an effort to absolve herself of the feeling of needing to apologise for being there.

. . .

'Well ... you're going to have to move in with me,' Naomi said, the second they got through her bedroom door, suggesting the obvious conclusion to the debate she'd been internalising.

'Who says I want to?' Emily asked, unfazed by the suddenness of the remark, stretching back on the bed that sank softly and luxuriously beneath her.

'Well ... me, mostly,' Naomi acknowledged as she undid the top few buttons of her shirt and kicked off her shoes. 'And the fact that you haven't been home in a month.' She crawled onto the bed and kneeled beside Emily. 'And your Mum's a big old bristly bitch,' Naomi paused to think of more reasons. 'And being there makes you unhappy. Which makes me all itchy and uncomfortable.'

'I think that was the shirt Naomi,' Emily clarified her, propping herself up on her elbows, thankful to have returned Katie's restrictive clothes before they left.

'Maybe ...' Naomi undid another button for good measure. 'I mean it though ... you can move in here until we can get our own place and then I can keep you safe from things that make you unhappy.' She frowned. 'Well, apart from when those things are me. Like when I finish all the milk or shout at the news ... or leave all the clothes in the washing machine so they get all mouldy ...'

'I'm still annoyed about that by the way.'

'I shall endeavour to never do any washing ever again.'

Emily narrowed her eyes in thought. 'And you never cook for me,' she added.

'Trust me, that's a good thing,' Naomi assured her.

'And you insist on eating food that's way past its sell-by-date.'

'Right, because one extra day in refrigerated conditions renders something perilously inedible ...'

'And then there was that time when you wouldn't stop punning,' Emily continued.

'But it just comes so _naturally_.' Naomi paused. 'Second thoughts maybe you should stay with Jenna.'

Emily smiled as she sat up to take Naomi's hands in hers. 'Naomi. I'd love to move in with you,' she said sincerely. 'In fact, an argument could be made that I already have,' she admitted. 'But ...'

Naomi's face fell. 'But what?' she prompted sulkily.

'Well,' she traced her fingertips over the ridges of Naomi's knuckles, 'can we invite Katie over now and then? I know she can be a raging bitch and everything ... but she's my sister and I kind of love her.'

'Gross.'

'I'm serious.'

Naomi sighed. 'Of course you can invite her round,' she said. She chewed her lip absently in thought. 'You should probably invite your Mum round sometimes too,' she said after a moment. 'What?' she asked of Emily's astonished expression, 'I just think she'd appreciate it,' she told her with a shrug.

'And since when did you care about stuff like that?' Emily asked with a bemused smile.

'I'm a very sensitive soul you know,' Naomi assured her. 'But I may have very important errands to run while she's here though,' she added seriously. 'Errands that are far away and take a long time.'

'I love you.'

Naomi smiled. 'I know.'

'I know you know,' Emily said, her mouth flickering between a smile and a flat-line, anticipating Naomi's next move.

Naomi leaned forward and captured Emily's lips in a soft kiss. Then another. Then another. Then she brought her hands up to clutch at Emily's shoulders and kissed her again, harder, her mouth open, feeling Emily's hot mouth push back against her own.

Emily let Naomi push her back into the bed, slipping her arms around her and pulling her close, encouraging Naomi to press herself down more forcefully against her, and Naomi found herself undoing the last few buttons of her shirt until she was finally rid of the wretched thing and tossing it to the floor, impulsively obeying and complying to every push and pull of Emily's arms and hands. Naomi wondered how she did that – made her overcome her shyness like that, made her forget herself, as if all those pent up teenage years dedicated to perfecting her irreverent nonchalance had never happened. Almost as if she was a better person.

Emily's hands skimmed up and across and down her body. Those small, strong hands that Naomi would hold in hers, or bring to her lips to kiss, or squeeze in nervousness and excitement were sweeping across her skin as if they were sculpting her. She could feel the wet heat of Emily's mouth against her lips and neck and the air immediately cooling the dampness she left. She could feel the faint scrape of fingernails that teased up her inner thighs and the familiar tension in her stomach beginning to wind stronger and stronger.

Emily smiled up at her, a lazy, assured smile, her hair mussed and splayed by the cushions and pillows of the bed. She undid the button of her own trousers and allowed Naomi to shimmy them down her legs, giggling when they slowed to a halt around her ankles and had to be tugged away. She kicked them from her with an energetic flourish of her legs.

'Keeping your socks on are you?' Naomi asked.

Emily laughed again and nodded. 'I know how much it turns you on,' she said, smiling confidently. She stroked her toe seductively along Naomi's calf. 'Yeah, you love it you sock pervert,' she ventured, her mischievous smile belying her tone.

Naomi feebly smacked away the teasing foot, feeling Emily laugh against her stomach as she moved back onto her. Sometimes, Emily's confidence was enough when Naomi had none of her own. When she felt too self-conscious, too insecure in acts that were so inherently exaggerated and sensational, frenetic, at least in parts, and that involved such huge suspensions of self-control. She eased all of those insecurities with her laughter, and with her touch, and with her kisses.

And then with her hands again.

Her hands.

Her hands.

. . .

Naomi lazed languidly amongst the crushed sheets and flattened pillows of the bed, watching the sun slowly creep along the walls and the floor and making vague estimations as to what time of day it was. From somewhere near the window frame a draft coasted through the room – the cold breeze whispered along her exposed skin. She inhaled the fresh air deeply, stretching out her sleepy muscles and arching her spine before settling back into the mattress again. It felt like autumn for the first time this year, like yesterday's rain had been the overture that heralded its approach. Naomi looked over to Emily who had fallen asleep on her front in the middle of the bed, again, with her arms draped across the entire width in both directions. Naomi nudged her half-heartedly, knowing it wouldn't wake her. She felt solid and warm, her flesh only just yielding to the soft push, her body rocking slightly before returning to its peaceful stillness.

She pressed a soft kiss the Emily's relaxed shoulder, perhaps imagining the appreciative sigh that seemed to emanate from the sleeping body, and for a moment it all seemed impossible – the amber pools of sunlight collecting upon the floorboards and the draft prickling the hair on her arms and the warmth radiating from Emily's sleeping form sending her slowly back to sleep. Autumn tended to arrive without warning, with no respect for the summer that it replaced –that slight chill that catches you unaware in the morning, the silent reminder that something has shifted, significantly, into a new phase. Jacket or no jacket? The perennial autumnal question. And the nature around slowly dismantles itself. Yellow. Red. Brown. And darkness falls early, day creeps into night, and the blurring of all these edges are lit by the misty shimmer of the Pleiades. It's that awareness of the advancing end of the year, and the feeling that endings bring.

Things ending.

The end of things.

The forgetting of these things.

.


End file.
